Speak With the Dead
by Leikiz
Summary: Dead men tell no tales. Dead capes never shut up. Taylor dies in the locker and finds herself trapped as a ghost- unseen, unheard, intangible, -alone.- It's only when she realizes her true power- the ability to summon the spirits of dead capes, that she sees a way out. With Allfather, undead Nazi supervillain at her side, can Taylor find a way to live? [Discontinued]
1. 1-1

This is an crossposting of the Worm fanfiction Speak with the Dead, originally posted on SpaceBattles, under the account name 'Ziel.'

The story ran from May 2014-May 2015, before being prematurely discontinued. It represents my first full length fanfiction. While ambitious, it suffered from a severe lack of planning and a number of other issues that come with a first time writing project.

Eventually, the issues piled up, and I found myself struggling to continue it. I had many, many ideas for where the story was to go, but the time and effort it would take to get there weren't worth it for a project I found myself less interested in the longer I worked on it.

Some of the OC characters here may make reappearances in future works, but I can't say where or when.

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1.1

Taylor Hebert.  
1995-2011  
May She Know Peace Now

That was it? The totality of my existence summed up in five words. I'd bet money that Dad hadn't picked them. He hadn't picked Mom's inscription either. He'd been too torn up to choose.

I'd kept my distance from him after my death. Didn't want to see him grieve again, mostly. It was just too hard to deal with when I couldn't do anything. Couldn't talk to him, couldn't hug him, couldn't apologize for all the things I'd done wrong, couldn't- _dammit_.

I swung a kick at my headstone. My foot passed through ineffectually, and I went off-balance and toppled over onto my grave. My hand sank up to the wrist in the ground before I frantically pulled it away. I didn't know how this ghost thing worked, but getting too close to my grave seemed like a bad idea.

Instead, I rolled onto the grass beside it and sat. I hadn't expected it, but just being here, seeing my grave, was making it real to me. I'd forgotten, but the same thing had happened with Mom. It hadn't been real until I saw the grave, and known that it was really, truly over.

Part of me wanted to cry, to break down sobbing at what had become of my life, but I pushed it down. Now would be the right time though. To cry over having died at 15, in a fucking locker at fucking Winslow High, because my former best friend had gone off the deep end and decided that I was better as a punching bag than a friend.

The grave was looking fuzzy now, but I couldn't tell why. I focused instead on how I'd never told Dad about my problems, and how he'd never forgive himself for what happened to me. God, he was all alone now. How was he going to manage? We'd both fallen apart after Mom, but we'd at least had each other.

My throat felt tight, and my eyes burned. How could I even feel all of that if I was a ghost? Was this seriously it? I was stuck as a ghost and now what? Was I supposed to haunt my grave or something? F-fuck, what the hell kind of life was this?

"May She Know Peace Now." How could I?! How could I be happy when I'd fucked everything up so badly? Where was the justice that things turned out like this? How was any of this okay?

What about Dad? What about his peace?

The last time I'd been home, Dad had been wandering from room to room, looking lost. Like he didn't even know where he was anymore. He was alone now. Totally, utterly alone, surrounded by memories of the family he didn't have anymore.

For the first time in two years, I let the tears come.

I came to next to my grave, curled up in a ball on the grass. The sky was twilight, headed quickly for darkness now. I scrubbed my puffy, tear-stained face with my hands. What did it even matter? No one could see.

I dragged myself to my feet. I was tired, and my body ached from being curled up for so long. In the distance, I could see the last few graveyard visitors leaving.

…now what?

I'd been sleeping in my bed at home. I couldn't touch the sheets or anything, but I could lay on it if I focused. But I couldn't do that now. It just didn't feel right to linger in my house like that now that I was… Dad was going to sell my bed eventually anyway. And all my things. And it'd be like I never existed but for this gravestone-

I cut off that train of thought before I started crying again. I was too tired to cry anymore. And with that, I walked aimlessly toward Brockton Bay. I skirted the other graves. It didn't feel right to trample across someone else's body. When I got to the iron railing that ringed the cemetery, I just walked through it and kept going.

I'd wished I was invisible sometimes. Mostly at school. But now that I actually was, it sucked. I was completely alone in the world. Like Dad. I couldn't think about that right now either. Anything but that.

No one looked at me as I walked through the streets. People went straight through me on the sidewalk. After some hesitation, I walked through a line of busy traffic. Literally through it. The cars felt like a strong breeze as they passed through me, but I was unharmed.

I had nowhere to go, so I kept walking even as it got dark. Most of the foot traffic disappeared, gradually replaced by Brockton's seedier elements.

The city seemed to come alive at night. Like it was more honest about what it was. Instead of tourists, we had white supremacist thugs and gang bangers. I stood and watched a group of men in Empire colors as they congregated around a fire barrel. It was only when I saw their breath in the air that realized that I wasn't cold. I knew it was cold, but I didn't feel cold.

I left them after a short time. They were mostly shooting the shit, and I didn't really want to hear what a bunch of Nazis talked about when they were together. I cut through an alley and ended up on a side street in the docks.

A tall girl in a jacket was walking her dogs down the block. None of them were leashed, but I was a ghost, so it didn't matter. I made to move by her, but the dogs all began snarling and barking at once.

They clustered around the girl, baring their fangs at… me? But they couldn't… One of them lunged, and I stumbled back in alarm. The dog passed through me like I wasn't there. It landed, turned, and then circled around, still staring at me.

"Brutus, heel!" The girl yelled. She snapped her fingers at the dog. She had the other two by their collars, and was holding them back from jumping at me. "Angelica, _no!_ "

Could they smell me? Was that it? I darted away from the dogs, crossing the street as fast as I could. Brutus made to follow, but the girl whistled sharply and he returned to her side. I looked back from the other side of the street. The girl was standing there, still looking around, with the dogs circling her protectively.

I cut down a dark alley to get away. As much as I wanted someone to notice me, I didn't like the idea of getting mauled by dogs. The new alley was almost pitch black, and stank of old garbage. Up ahead I could see the end, illuminated by the dim bulb of a safety light. I sped up, wanting to be out of the alley and-

I bumped into someone and fell. I could tell I'd landed in a puddle, but my ghostliness actually came in handy for once, and I was perfectly dry. That was sort of- _holy shit I just bumped into someone_.

I scrambled around whoever I'd hit and headed for the light. It was only when I'd reached the circle of light that I looked back. I didn't see anyone. The alley was dark, but I should at least have been able to see a person there.

I kept staring. There was no one… but… _there_. I had to look carefully, but there was a shape in the darkness. Not a person, but almost the outline of someone.

"Hello?" I whispered.

Silence. And then slowly, the shape drifted forward. It wasn't much clearer as it walked into the light. It was so faint that it was barely visible. Less than a shadow. Little more than a distortion in the air. My heart was pounding, with fear or excitement I couldn't tell. Was this- could this be another ghost?

The shadow moved until it was right in front of me. It towered over me. And it was broad; it gave off an almost palpable aura of strength. It was hazy, but the shape of it seemed vaguely male. How did it- (he?) see me? Did I look like a shape to it?

I was still pondering what to do when it stretched out an arm. I drew back, but it continued undeterred. Inexorably, it reached for me. I had the briefest sensation of cold as its fingertip touched me, and then the shape was gone. It had vanished like it was never there.

"What the hell?"

I looked around the alley to see where it had gone. Nothing there. I headed for the end of the alley, trying to put the weird giant ghost behind me. I made it as far as the street when pressure suddenly welled inside me. I fell to my knees, feeling like I was about to burst. It didn't hurt, but it was overwhelming, like something was trying to escape from the very fabric of my body.

I managed to hold the pressure down for only a few moments. The instant I lost concentration, it poured out of me. I gasped; it felt like all my energy was draining out of me. Not strength, but vitality- like I was actually dying again. I grasped feebly at it, but it flowed on heedlessly.

I cried out as I felt my body going cold. Not again. Not like this. The cold crept up my neck and I knew that if it reached my head, I'd die for real. I pushed against the waves of cold with all I had. It wasn't an act of force, but of will. I demanded that my body hold on; that I _not die_. That I keep going.

I kept the cold at bay, but just barely. It ringed the middle of my neck like a noose. And I was getting weaker and weaker by the second. It was only a matter of time before I got too tired to fight back. A single tear rolled down my cheek as I strained to hold on just a little longer.

My strength faded, and the cold began moving inexorably upwards. Inch by inch, it sank into my body, chilling me to the core. Only an inch more- just a centimeter- a millimeter- a hairs breadth and-

A hand pressed against my shoulder. At once, I felt the flow of my life slow and then stop. Fingers of cold were pressing into my jaw, but they began receding as soon as the flow stopped. I was left shaking on the ground. It wasn't all just tiredness; I'd come _that_ close to dying again.

My vision was blurry with fatigue, but as I huddled there, it began to clear. I could see now that there was someone kneeling in front of me; the person who had their hand on my shoulder.

It was long minutes before I was able to see the newcomer clearly. I'd managed to stop shaking too, but I still couldn't get up. It felt like I'd lost all the bones in my legs.

The stranger hadn't lifted their hand from my shoulder. Normally, I'd have found it intrusive, but I'd craved human contact since becoming a ghost. I anchored myself in the feeling. It made me feel more real; more substantial. Helped me forget just how close I'd just come.

Finally, I blinked, and my vision was back to normal. I surveyed my rescuer and knew instantly that it was the shape from the alley. I just knew it somehow. They felt the same. It didn't stop me from gaping. He was even more gigantic in the flesh. And… what the hell was he wearing?

A single blue eye looked at me through a slit in a metal helmet. I couldn't see any more of his face; it was all covered. Actually, his eye was the only bit of I could see of him. Every square inch was covered in armor. I wanted to call it medieval, but it wasn't. It felt different; too ornate, too unrealistic. Like it was an idealized version of what armor _should_ look like.

He wore a sword on his hip. I did a double take at that. What kind of person carried a sword? It wasn't like his armor. The leather of the grip was well-worn, and the sheath was battered from use.

I stared at him for a while, trying to comprehend why there was a ghost knight in Brockton Bay. Our eyes met, and he moved. Slowly, he reached for me with his other hand. I drew back. He hesitated briefly as I flinched away, but then continued on anyway. I froze in shock as he raised his arms and… pulled me into a hug.

He could have crushed me like a bug, but the embrace was gentle, almost delicate. The care that he took in his movements convinced me that he wasn't going to hurt me. He'd even helped me earlier. And so, I tentatively patted him on the back.

"Th-thanks?" I said.

His voice whispered out through the gap in his helmet. It was barely a whisper, like he hadn't spoken in years.

"Rain… my… dear… Rain."


	2. 1-2

One of the things that always surprised me while writing was the reader reaction to Allfather. People really liked him, despite being a racist, Nazi asshole. Frankly, I liked him. He's a lot of fun to write. If I would do it again, he'd definitely be toned down some- he doesn't really read like a real person, but a lot of him would stay the same.

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1.2

"Rain?" I said. The way he'd said it made it sound like a name.

"Daughter… you." The knight said. He was still hugging me. My face was mashed against his breastplate, and I was getting short on air.

"Who are you?" More importantly, why did he think I was his daughter?

"…father."

I squirmed against his hug. The knight seemed to notice my discomfort and reluctantly let me go. I sat back on the sidewalk, catching my breath. …why did I still have to breathe? None of this made any sense.

I rubbed at my eyes tiredly. But how could I even be tired because… I sighed. Being a ghost was frustrating.

"You're not my dad."

"You… Iron… Rain." He stood slowly, his armor creaking. Why was he so choppy? I didn't have any trouble talking.

"You're a ghost too, right?" I asked. The knight cocked his head at me. It was hard to get a read on him when all I could see was one eye. He didn't answer.

I tried again. "Who's Iron Rain?"

"…daughter."

Iron Rain sounded like a cape name. I blinked. _Of course_.

"You're not a knight- you're a cape!"

He stared at me for a moment, and then nodded. I'd never heard of any capes in Brockton Bay who dressed like knights except for Kaiser.

"Do you know Kaiser?"

His eye narrowed to a slit behind his visor and he tensed. He knew Kaiser then. I closed my eyes to think about it. I had a dead cape in armor, who thought I was his daughter, who was apparently named Iron Rain, and- _I could feel him_.

I hadn't noticed it until I closed my eyes, but I could faintly sense the other ghost. It was vague; just a loose bundle of feelings and sensations that sat at the back of my mind. They felt muted. Like they were too… like they were impaired in some way?

"Can you walk over there?" I pointed randomly. I heard the clank of armor as he strode away. And through the connection, I could feel the… energy of the ghost move away from me. It didn't matter that he was farther away now- I could still feel him, and I still knew where he was.

However, now that he wasn't so close, I could sense a sort of… connection between us. It wasn't just Me/Him. There was a conduit- a flow of… was that energy? I looked closer.

My energy flowed down the bond, and became his energy. What the hell? Why was that happening? Was he stealing my lifeforce?! There was no way I was letting him use me as a battery when I'd nearly died a few minutes ago!

I _pulled_ on our connection. I couldn't say how I did it, I just knew that I could, and so I did. I willed my energy back to me- to stop flowing into him. There was resistance. The energy wanted to keep going to him. I pulled harder, putting more of my will into the effort. It was _my_ energy. I was in control.

The connection parted slowly, fraying apart like thread. Little by little, it separated and then finally snapped. I felt a sudden infusion of energy into me; more than I'd imagined. Heat blossomed inside, and I felt stronger.

I opened my eyes to see what the knight was doing. The sidewalk was empty. He was gone. Had he disappeared because he didn't have any more energy? Or had he gone back to being a shape like he'd been in the alley. I glanced around, looking carefully, but I didn't see him.

I turned my attention inward, examining my new store of energy. It was separate. There was my energy, and then there was the new section. But why? I pushed at the new part. It was like a portion of energy had… crystallized? It was hard to describe, but that felt like the right way to think of it.

The crystal felt odd- almost familiar. I pushed at it harder, and it moved within my flow. Another push and it kept moving after I stopped. The crystal moved of its own volition, heading away from my store of power. It strained, fighting onward, and I nudged it one final time. With a rush, the entire section disappeared from my reserve. At the same time, the knight appeared in front of me, his arms crossed.

 _What_.

"…Rain?" The knight said. He sounded confused.

I ignored him. There was too much to think about at the moment.

So, I could absorb other ghosts? I inspected the knight. Once more, my energy was flowing into him. But if I cut it off… he would disappear. So, I wasn't just his battery. He was dependent on my energy to stay around. And forming him a second time hadn't drained all my energy like it had before. Did that mean once I gave him form once, he was set?

I pulled my energy back and he disappeared again. I reformed him. I was right. It hadn't cost my any energy to reform him. It was just moving his energy outside of my well. There was a small trickle of energy linking us, but it seemed to just be maintaining our connection.

"What… are… you…" He said slowly.

What would happen if I increased the flow from me to him? Instead of pulling on our connection, I pushed, forcing energy down the link. The knight stiffened, and then looked me straight in the eye.

"Rain, what are you doing?" He said. His voice came out entirely differently from before. Where he had whispered before, now he spoke in strong, commanding tones.

He approached, his steps now smooth and measured. I was still crouched on the sidewalk, trying to figure things out. He towered above me.

"Wait. You're not Iron Rain." He reached down and grabbed my wrist, pulling me to my feet with ease. I tried to stand, but my legs folded under me. The knight caught me, holding me steady.

"What's your name, girl?" He said.

"Taylor." I said weakly. He'd gone from odd to intimidating in a matter of seconds, and I hadn't caught up yet. He shook his head.

"Not your Christian name. Your cape name. For example-" He lifted a fist over his heart. "I am Allfather, leader of the Empire 88."

"B-but I'm not a cape." I said.

Air hissed between the slit in his visor as he snorted derisively. "Of course you're a cape. How else would you have summoned me? I distinctly recall dying."

"You're a ghost." I pointed to the alley. "You died over there, I think. I'm a ghost too."

"Don't be a fool. There's no such thing as ghosts. You're a cape, or a parahuman, if you prefer."

"But I'm invisible and I walk through walls, and-"

He waved his gauntlet dismissively. "Parahuman." He lifted me into a bridal carry. "Come, let us walk. You can tell me of the state of my Empire."

It was a little uncomfortable getting carried around like a princess by a weird not-ghost knight. Allfather carried me effortlessly as he strode down the street. As he walked, his helmet swiveled from side to side, surveying everything around us.

"Brockton Bay is distinctly dirtier than I recall. How long has it been since I died?"

"When was that?"

"1999."

I blinked. "You've been dead _that_ long? It's 2011!"

"I see." He said simply. "What of the Empire in my absence?"

"You said you were the leader of the E88, didn't you?"

He nodded. I had the power to control Nazi ghosts. Wonderful.

"They're pretty big. They control about a third of the city, and they've gained a lot of parahumans since Kaiser took over."

Allfather froze. "What did you say?" He said, his voice too calm.

"Kaiser took over-"

" _Kaiser_." He growled. "My worthless traitor of a son in charge of the Empire. What happened to Iron Rain?"

"You mentioned her earlier. She was your daughter?"

"My firstborn child." He looked down at me. "You look like her. In my… impaired state, I was mistaken."

"I've never heard of anyone named Iron Rain."

His gauntlets tightened painfully against me. "Then she is dead. Kaiser betrayed her as well."

I stayed silent, not sure what to say. Kaiser had been the head of the E88 for as long as I could remember. I didn't know much about him, but a white supremacist supervillain wasn't going to be anyone good. I'd seen too many fights at school started by kids in Empire colors to have any trust for the E88.

Allfather began walking again, covering huge swathes of ground with his long strides.

"This." He jerked his head at the rundown buildings surrounding us. "This is not what a city under the Empire should look like. Kaiser has failed."

We turned a corner and came upon the first people I'd seen since I met Allfather. It was a bunch of ABB sitting on a stoop. I was about to ignore them, when I realized that they were looking at us. Could they actually see us? Was I somehow visible now?

"Who are they?" Allfather asked. "They look like gang members."

"The Asian Bad Boys. They hold a lot of the Docks and stuff."

I could hear the sneer in Allfather's words. "Oriental filth. How much harm have they caused Brockton's citizens?"

"The fuck did you say?!" One of the ABB yelled. They were getting to their feet, all of them looking angry. Several of them pulled knives, but most of them looked scared of Allfather.

"It's a cape." One whispered. "That's Kaiser!"

"I am not Kaiser!" Allfather roared. "Kaiser appears to tolerate your presence. I will not." He set me down gently. I wobbled a little, but managed to keep my feet. "Watch and learn how a true leader of the Empire handles the lesser races!"

Allfather drew his hands together in midair and made a motion like he was pulling something apart. The air split, and he unsheathed a gleaming broadsword from nowhere. Holy shit, he was definitely a cape.

"Allfather wait!" I cried, but he marched forward, his sword held to one side.

"Oh fuck. Run!" An ABB thug screamed. Most of them scrambled away from Allfather as fast as they could. Only a few remained, brandishing their weapons at Allfather.

I couldn't believe it. Were they honestly going to stand and fight against a homicidal knight with a sword as tall as I was? How could they be that stupid?

Allfather didn't waste any more words. He just waded into the fray. Sparks flew as the thugs' weapons glanced off his armor. One man swung a pipe and Allfather sliced it in two with a lazy swipe. His counterattack took the man's arm off at the elbow. The thug fell screaming, his blood pouring into the gutter.

Allfather grabbed another ABB member by the collar and smashed him in the face with the pommel of his sword. The ganger crumpled, joining his friend on the ground. A few more thugs broke and ran, fleeing into the night.

I'd only ever seen a few cape fights on Youtube, but I could tell just by watching him that Allfather was someone serious. He fought methodically, not showing at fear at the men surrounding him. Every motion was smooth and calculated; offense and defense at the same time. He fought like he'd been born with his sword in hand. The ABB didn't have a chance against him.

"Stop!" I shouted, grabbing at his arm. Allfather pushed me behind him.

"Stay out of the way, child."

One of the ABB walked straight through me to get at Allfather. I was still invisible then. They could only see Allfather. They couldn't see or touch me, but they could touch him, and vice versa. That was abundantly clear.

"Allfather-" I tried again.

"I said stay behind me." He held me back, swinging his sword easily even with one hand. He blocked again and then swung his sword overhead. The stroke passed cleanly through a thug's arm, sending the limb flying off. Blood splattered hot and heavy across the scene. The last of the ABB turned and ran, leaving their wounded lying on the sidewalk.

I struggled not to vomit as I looked at the gore surrounding us. Allfather's shining armor was flecked with blood now, and his sword was drenched in it.

He chuckled. "First battle? It'll be over soon." He raised his sword, moving toward the injured ABB.

"You- you can't!" I gasped.

Allfather studied the ABB members. "Why?" He sounded almost amused.

"Because you can't just go around and kill people!"  
"Chinks are not people, Taylor. If it were you or me lying down there, it'd be different. Whites need to stick together. Chinks however…" He hefted his sword.

"No!" If I was a cape, then he was part of my power- I should be able to control him! I willed him not to attack, putting all the force I could muster behind it. Allfather continued like I wasn't doing anything.

"I order you to stop!" I shouted. Allfather turned his head to look at me.

"You'll do no such thing. I don't take orders from you, child."

I yanked at our connection, cutting into the flow of energy from me to him. Allfather's movements slowed a little, but he was still going. He aimed his sword and brought it down-

I was not going to have my power be used for murder! With a colossal effort, I tore into our connection and pulled at the same time.

Allfather vanished, his sword inches from one of the ABB. He was there one second, and then gone the next. The man lay panting on the ground, trying to staunch his wounds with his shirt.

I heard sirens now, their wailing carrying through the gaps in the dark buildings around me. There was nothing I could do here. I couldn't call for help or provide medical aid. I saw flashing lights in the distance and knew I had to run for it. The police couldn't see me anyway, but anywhere was better than here.

My feet barely kicked off a ripple as I ran through the blood.


	3. 1-3

1.3

My feet pounded against the pavement as I ran. The city was dark, and the streets were all but deserted. Rarely, I'd pass a car or run by someone walking, but for the most part, Brockton Bay was a ghost town.

I left the Docks and its 'nightlife' behind and headed into the Boat Graveyard. In a few short blocks the city went from poor to an outright wasteland of abandoned warehouses and partially sunken ships. Out in the Graveyard, my only company was likely to be the homeless, and maybe criminals.

It was a long way to travel, and I only made it as far as I did because I could just run through anything in my way. Sand rustled underfoot as I wove through the maze of rusting ships that covered most of the shore.

Finally, I slumped against the side of a tanker, unable to run any farther. My legs were shaking like rubber, and I thought my lungs would burst. And I was still pissed off that I could get tired. I got all the bullshit powers of a ghost, but I still got tired.

I shook my head angrily, I didn't even get ghost powers. I got screwed over by the world's shittiest superpower. "Power to Die But Not Really." Real nice. Dad was probably devastated. Actually, scratch that. I _knew_ he was devastated, and I couldn't do anything about it.

And it wasn't just that. I got the wonderful group package power of controlling… dead people? Nazi supervillains? I wasn't sure exactly what it did. It still made me mad. I'd dreamed of being a superhero for so long, and when it actually happened, my life got irreparably fucked up, and I got… necromancy.

It had damn well better be necromancy. I was going to blow a fuse if my power was "controls Nazis." Speaking of which-

I shoved at the crystal resting in my power. It parted from me and Allfather appeared. He had his arms crossed. The moonlight glinted off his armor. None of the blood from earlier was still on him.

"Well?" I said.

"I should ask you the same thing, Taylor." Allfather sounded almost disappointed. "Why did you interfere?"

"What is _wrong_ with you? You don't get to murder people in street just because they're Asian!"

"How else do you expect me to clean up my city? They're a significant part of the problem." He replied.

"So is your fucking Empire!" I shouted. "They're worse than the ABB ever were! Half the capes in the city are Nazi thugs."

"All the more proof that my son is a failure as head of the Empire."

"Is that all you think about?"

"Yes!" He shouted back. He stopped, and when he spoke again, his voice was calmer. "Look Taylor, the Empire was the culmination of my life's work. All my hopes and dreams were tied up in it."

"Dreams about killing the lesser races." I sneered.

Allfather sighed, and then tugged his helmet off. He placed it under one shoulder and I saw his face for the first time.

He was younger than I'd expected. Younger than Dad, I thought. He had the same lines of strain under his eyes that Dad did though. His blonde hair was cut short, probably to help his helmet fit. His left eye was closed, the lid flat over the empty socket. He fumbled in a pocket and pulled out an eyepatch, strapping it on over his missing eye.

He walked over and sat down next to me against the ship. I scooted away from him.

"Wait." He held up a gauntleted hand. "Look at all this." He waved at the decaying ships around us. "All of this was here when I was still alive. Can you believe that?"

"The city never has the money to fix it."

He pointed to the Bay. Moonlight played across the water in huge glittering arcs, and the sky was almost clear enough to see the stars. It was surprisingly beautiful. Not the kind of thing I expected to see in Brockton.

"I love this city." He said. "I'd like nothing more than to fix this and build something better."

I stayed quiet. Taunting him was getting old. He was too set in his beliefs for it to bother him anyway.

"We're all the heroes in our own stories. How would you be a hero, Taylor?"

I opened my mouth, paused, and then closed it again. I didn't know how to answer that. Clean up the city? Solve crime? Defeat supervillains? So much of my life had been wrapped up in what had gone on at Winslow that I honestly hadn't given it any thought.

And now, sitting here in the night air, nothing to my name, and no one to talk to but a Nazi supervillain, all of that seemed so _small_. How had a trio of teenage girls ruined my life so thoroughly? They hadn't just smashed my self-esteem or fucked up my grades- they'd _killed me_. It didn't matter that I'd scored superpowers and was still alive- for all intents and purposes, they had killed Taylor Hebert. They'd murdered me.

"Revenge." I whispered. "What I want is-" I hesitated. No- That wasn't right. I wanted revenge, but I wanted something else more. What I wanted above all else was-

"I want to see my Dad again, and tell him that I'm okay and that I love him."

As I spoke the words, they settled on me with an almost palpable weight.

Allfather smiled at me. "That's a good goal, but you didn't answer my question."

"I… I need some time to think about it. I'm still trying to get a handle on this whole situation. My powers, and the fact that I have powers, and…" I trailed off with a groan.

He stood, his armor giving off sparks as it scraped against the ship's hull.

"Alright. Let's get a handle on them." He made the same withdrawing motion he'd made earlier and pulled a sword from nowhere. It was a different sword from before.

"I create metal-bladed weapons. What do you do?"

"Ghost control." I said lamely.

"What ghosts?"

"Dunno."

"Define your limits. A warrior must know her limits." He rammed the sword into the sand and drew another. "How many, what kind, when, where, _why_?"

"I summoned you." I thought about it. If I could summon shades of anyone who'd ever died, I'd have millions of ghosts around me. What made Allfather different?

"I control parahuman ghosts."

Allfather drove his new sword into the ground and leaned against it, his elbow resting on the crossguard. "Good. Keep going."

We talked until the moon was touching the far horizon. Allfather finally put a stop to it when I started dozing off halfway through sentences. He carried me up a mountain of scrap metal and then jumped to the deck of an adjacent ship. The deck was dirty and weather beaten, but it seemed like no one had been up there.

The door to the cabin was rusted shut, but he jammed a sword into the gap and levered it. The door held for a long time, but finally, with a long stream of muffled cursing, he pried it open.

"I can walk through walls." I said quietly, trying not to laugh. Allfather stared at me for a moment and then burst out laughing. I tried not to, but I ended up joining him. Things seemed a lot funnier when I was this tired.

I staggered over to the musty bed in the cabin. It was pretty gross, but I didn't have to touch it, so I didn't care. Allfather sat down at the foot of the bed while I stretched out.

My eyelids drifted shut almost immediately, but I held on for just a little longer.

"You didn't tell me what you wanted." I said.

The sheets rustled as Allfather shifted on the bed. I was a little surprised the bedframe could even handle his armor-clad weight.

"I believe I said that I wanted to clean up the city." He said.

"No. That's your way of being a hero. What do you _want_ more than anything?" It seemed important that I asked, but I couldn't say why.

He stayed silent for a moment, deliberating. When he spoke, he did so with deadly sureness.

"I want to avenge my daughter."

Our bond pulsed for just an instant, and I fell asleep with his words ringing in my ears.

( _condition set_ )

Allfather sat quietly until Taylor fell asleep. She looked so young, her skinny frame dwarfed by her ill-fitting clothes. He had to keep reminding himself that she wasn't Caroline. She had the same gawky grace, and the same way of smiling. Even their tangle of black hair was the same. Some men would have been ashamed to have a daughter with kike's hair, but he thought it was beautiful.

The resemblance was almost eerie, and he wondered if it wasn't some form of fate that his second chance would come from such a girl. As Taylor's breathing deepened, he slid slowly off the bed, taking immense care to move quietly in his armor.

The door almost foiled him. Its hinges grated like rusted saws. He studied it, and then forced it open in one motion. The hinges squealed once, loudly, but it was over in an instant. He glanced back; Taylor hadn't stirred.

He put his helmet back on and leapt over the side of the ship. The drop was a good forty feet, and he made it easily. His feet sank a few inches into the sand, but he didn't even feel the impact. One of the benefits of being summoned by Taylor. He wasn't tired either. Brute 3 was nothing to sneer at, but even he got tired hauling around his armor.

He smirked beneath his helmet. Didn't need to sleep, apparently. At least there were some benefits to it. Being used as a glorified sword-for-hire galled him, even if it was for a girl as nice as Taylor.

With easy strides, he loped through the Boat Graveyard. Once he'd settled Kaiser, he'd have to see about getting Taylor on board with the Empire. Nothing too dramatic. Maybe as his personal secretary or assistant. Something to keep her involved, but nothing to drive her away. He'd made some progress on her tonight; her dislike had decreased the longer they talked. He'd have to keep more of his thoughts to himself from now on.

He had an Empire to run after all, and that wasn't going to happen without her around. That her powers kept going when she was asleep was certainly a boon. She wouldn't approve, but what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

For now, he was going to track down some of his old contacts and see what they knew. Maybe he'd run down some of those… what had she called them? Asian Bad Boys? It didn't matter. They all died like animals anyway.

Allfather was nearing the edge of the Docks when he felt his connection shift. It pulled, and then severed completely. There was blackness and-

He stood before Taylor, stooping slightly under the low ceiling in the cabin. She rubbed at her eyes sleepily.

"Where were you?"

"I was patrolling the Graveyard to keep you safe." He lied smoothly.

"Oh. I felt…" She hesitated, staring off into the distance for a moment. "I woke up because someone just died. A parahuman just died."

"Shall we?" He held out a hand.

Taylor smiled at him, and his heart leapt as he saw Caroline.

"Let's roll."


	4. 1-4

1.4

I needed to find a better way to travel. Allfather was enough of a gentleman to carry me, but getting bounced against his armor as he ran was uncomfortable. On the other hand, walking wasn't really an option at this point. I was totally exhausted, and there was no way I'd be able to make it across town on my own.

I'd only gotten a few minutes of sleep earlier. The song woke me. A low note vibrating endlessly on the edge of my mind. It reminded me of whale song. Eerie and ethereal, but beautiful at the same time. As I listened to it, I _knew_. I don't know how I knew, but I did. If I followed the song, I would find another ghost.

"How strong are you?" I asked. Allfather was running noticeably faster than a baseline human could, and his armor didn't seem to be slowing him down at all.

"From what I recall, my Protectorate threat ranking placed me at Brute 3. I've got a minor suite of strength and stamina. And that's before you come in."

Allfather didn't even sound out of breath. I wasn't sure if he needed to breathe, actually.

"What about me?"

"I noticed it earlier. I don't get tired anymore, and I don't feel pain in the same way now that I'm a…" He hesitated. "A projection?"

"Just say ghost."

"There are no such things as ghosts, Taylor." He adjusted his grip on me, but kept running. I wondered what it must look like to anyone who saw us. Brockton Bay was a weird city, but seeing a man in full medieval armor run through the streets wasn't normal.

That reminds me." He said. "Your name."

"What about it?"

"You need to pick a cape name. I can't keep calling you Taylor in public."

That gave me pause. It made sense, I was a parahuman now. It was just that… It hadn't sunk in yet. I didn't think of myself as a cape. I was still getting over the whole "not a ghost" issue.

"I'll think about it." I said noncommittally.

Allfather grunted. He covered a few blocks before he spoke again.

"How about… Death's Head?"

"I'm not a Nazi, Allfather." I scowled at him. His laughter sounded metallic behind his helmet.

"Totenkopf."

"No."

"Geist."

" _No_."

"Nachtmahr."

"These all sound like Nazi names."

"Just because it's German doesn't mean it's related to the Third Reich." He said.

I banged my fist against his chestplate, punctuating my words.

"No. Nazi. Names."

Allfather laughed again as I cradled my now injured hand.

"Maybe… Hel?"

"I'm not a supervillain either. I can't name myself after Hell."

"Not that Hell. _Hel_ , the Norse goddess of the dead."

I thought about that. It was a little bit much, but it was better than anything else he'd suggested so far. And it didn't make me sound like a Nazi. But…

"I like it, but it still makes me sound like a supervillain."

"Aren't you?"

I pounded his chest with my other hand.

We followed the song halfway across town. Now and then, I'd have Allfather stop so I could listen to it and get an idea of the direction. The nearer I got, the stronger the song got.

We were getting into the south part of town before we really started closing in on it. The area was nicer than the Boat Graveyard, but only barely. The further south we traveled, the more rundown the buildings were.

I hung on tight as Allfather rounded a corner. I was noticing a lot of Merchant gang tags on the buildings in this area. There was a faint orange glow over the horizon; the sun was coming up. We'd still have some cover of darkness, but there were going to be a lot more people out soon.

"Stop squirming." Allfather growled.

I tried, but it was hard. I was getting impatient. The signal was getting strong enough now that I kept losing track of my thoughts. It wasn't hypnotic or anything, it was just that when I heard something so beautiful, I had to listen to it.

Allfather hooked around another corner and stopped dead. We both stared in shock at the street ahead of us. There was a… I hesitated to call it a truck. It looked more like the bastard child of a monster truck and a scrap heap. It was belching out thick plumes of smoke as it sat idling in front of a warehouse.

The song was very strong, and I knew we were at our destination. Allfather's steps slowed, and he moved into the shadows.

"Cars have changed a lot since I died." Allfather said. "What do you think, Taylor?"

I didn't want him walking in on whatever was going on up there. That looked like something cape related. And if there was a dead parahuman in there, it might mean that whoever owned the truck was responsible. I thought harder. Wasn't there a cape that made ugly ass cars like that? A Tinker… I couldn't think of a name though.

I relayed my thoughts to Allfather.

"Why don't I hang back, and you can scout the place using your powers?" He said.

"You can come with. You're aware of my surroundings when you're not out, right?"

He nodded his assent, and I returned him to my power. I felt surprisingly exposed without him. There was nothing that could possibly hurt me, but his presence was reassuring.

I strode down the street, giving the tinker vehicle a wide berth. It was even uglier up close. Huge sheets of metal were welded into haphazard armor, and gun turrets stuck out like quills all over it. It was quieter than I'd expected though. Barely a dull rumble escaped it, when it should have rattled windows up and down the street.

The door to the warehouse hung open. I walked through the wall, just in case. The inside was… I'd call it disgusting, but that wouldn't begin to describe it. Dozens of unconscious Merchants lay around the room. Most were half-clothed or less, and the room stank of body odor and stale sex.

Bottles carpeted the floor, mixed with a tide of vomit, urine, and spilled alcohol. I didn't think I could throw up as a ghost, but I made an honest effort at it.

Still following the song, I crossed the warehouse as quickly as I could. I resorted to just walking through the sleeping Merchants, rather than picking my way through the maze of filth.

A flight of stairs led up to a small office overlooking the floor. Words carried down to me, and it looked like the office was crowded. I made it halfway up the stairs before the office door burst open. I ducked out of instinct. A tall man with a scraggly green mohawk scrambled out of the office and ran down the stairs.

A second man, short and greasy looking followed closely behind. He tripped at the top of the stairs and rolled down them. The first man barely looked back as he ran for the exit.

"You're fucking dead, Mush!" Someone screamed. A woman stood framed in the doorway to the office. She was skinny, almost emaciated, her face twisted with anger.

The short man leaned against the bottom of the stairs, holding his leg.

"Squealer, don't! It was an accident!" He yelled. Squealer walked slowly down the stairs.

"An. _Accident._ " She snarled. "Mush royally fucks up, and it's an _accident._ "

She pulled a wrench from her tool belt and threw it at the short man. It clanged off the railing, barely missing his head. He started hobbling toward the exit.

"Skidmark's dead, Moist!"

The woman, who I guessed was Squealer, pounded down the stairs after Moist. Those all sounded like cape names. I had a vague idea that Squealer was a Merchant leader, but I had no idea who the other two were.

Squealer pulled on an oil-stained bandanna for a mask and went out the door. I made to go after her, then stopped. The song was still going. I knew that if I went up the stairs, I'd find another ghost. But I didn't want to let the capes just leave. There was something important going on.

Allfather's crystal stirred. He was signaling me. I pushed it free, letting him reappear beside me on the stairs.

"I will go after them." Allfather said. He looked around the warehouse at the piles of sleeping Merchants, his disgust palpable. "Degenerates like them have no place in this city."

"No killing." I said firmly. Allfather's blue eye met my eyes. I matched gazes with him for a long, tense moment before he nodded.

"As you wish."

He drew a sword with his power and saluted me with it, pressing the blade to his forehead.

"Be careful, child."

"You're the one I have to worry about." I said. "Nothing can hurt me."

"Be careful anyway. I can't protect you if I'm not with you."

Allfather turned with a swish of his cape and headed after Squealer. He walked resolutely forward, not even sparing a glance for the Merchants as he stepped on them. I watched him go, then headed up into the office.

The room was small, most of the furniture pushed against the walls. Stacks of money and drugs took up most of the table space. It was appalling that even a gang as low-brow as the Merchants could just have this much cash sitting around. I made a note to have Allfather steal it after we got done. I didn't know what I'd use it for, but it'd be better served in my hands than the Merchants'.

There was a door at the back of the office. I reached for the knob out of pure habit before remembering that I couldn't open it. I walked through instead.

It was a storeroom. One of the Merchants had converted it into a makeshift lovenest. Cheap, scented candles lined the shelves, punctuated by empty wine bottles. A grubby mattress lay against the far wall. On it was a dead man. The song stopped, leaving me emptier for its absence.

I approached slowly. It was one thing to know what my powers did, and entirely another to see a corpse. He looked different from the unconscious Merchants downstairs. More… still in some way. Less real. Like he'd lost something integrally human when he died.

I stared at him, unsure of what to do, when my power pulsed. It radiated out from my body like a wave, suffusing the room. I felt something react, resonating with me in the same way the song had. Wisps of smoke billowed from nowhere, coalescing together. They gathered thicker and thicker, until they formed a vaguely humanoid shape. The smoke roiled, and then at once, settled, shifting and resolving itself into a mirror image of the dead man.

He looked down at his body.

"Fuckin hell of a way to go." He said quietly. He tried to nudge his corpse with a toe. He phased through it like I would have.

"Sheee-it. I'm a fucking ghost."

"Yeah." I said. He turned to me, his bloodshot eyes narrowed.

"You an angel or something?"

"A cape." I said. "I can… uh- call up dead parahumans."

"Ain't that goddamn nifty." He said, looking at his body again.

"Yeah." I held out a hand. "Taylor, nice to meet you."

He didn't take it. "The fuck d'you want?"

I paused, my hand still outstretched. What _did_ I want him for? I wanted more ghosts, but I hadn't thought of a reason why. Allfather had been an accident, but I wanted to help him anyway. With this guy-

"What's your name?" I asked.

The ghost was trying to nudge his body again. "Skidmark." He muttered.

The words came to me like they had with Allfather.

"What do _you_ want, Skidmark?"

Skidmark scratched at the dark skin of his arm, running his fingers over a patchwork of old scars and scabs. He kept glancing back at his body, like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. His gaze finally settled on the pile of used needles next to his arm.

"A motherfucking overdose. Ain't that a stinking bitch?" He shook his head. "What's the deal, you're my fairy-fucking-godmother or something?"

"Let's make a deal."

Skidmark snorted. "The only deals I make with skinny white bitches involve my black cock."

I shrugged, feigning disinterest. Why was I so set on making a deal with him? Where was my understanding of this situation coming from?

"There's _nothing_ at all you want?"

He looked like he was about to start laughing again, but I stared at him unblinkingly until he sobered.

"Anything at all?" He said slowly.

"Within reason."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"No catch, no nothing?" He said, sounding like he was starting to believe me.

"Nope."

"What do I want? What do I really want?" Skidmark pointed to his corpse, his voice rising.

"I died like a _bitch!_ I want to show this fucking whore of a city that I wasn't some cheapshit crack dealer! I own a third of the territory and those fuckers up there are too good to give me the time of day. I want to show every last one of those oozing cunts that Skidmark was no one to fuck with!"

"How?"

That didn't sound like anything I wanted to be involved in, but I pressed on regardless. What had come over me? Why was I so… compelled to make a deal with him.

Skidmark hesitated. "Lemme think about it. I'll plan it out." He chuckled darkly. "I roll with you, Skinny Bitch, and you and me are gonna show them all."

"Deal." I said.

( _condition set_ )

And before he could move, I took his hand. Skidmark faded into nothingness, and I felt his presence form inside my power. It wasn't like Allfather's; less… refined somehow. I pushed it free to summon him, and it burst into life.

And then I remembered what had happened when I first called Allfather. My energy poured out of me like lifeblood. Instantly, cold gathered in my extremities, growing up my arms and legs in icy fingers. I tried feebly to cut it off, but it was like the tap was stuck open. The energy would flow until Skidmark's body was formed. A lot of my energy was already going to Allfather; I wouldn't have enough for the two of them!

I pulled at Allfather's connection, trying to sever it, but I was too weak. I only managed to cut down the flow going to him, using the energy to hold on against the tide rushing to Skidmark.

The cold made it most of the way up my chest before it finally started to slow. I let out a deep breath, knowing I'd come way too close. I only had a handful of energy left. If any more had gone to Allfather, I'd have been in real trouble.

I'd fallen to the floor in my struggle, and the reformed Skidmark stood in front of me.  
"The fuck was that?" He said. "I feel weird."

"Wha- we're linked now." I gasped. "You're part of my power. You're corporeal."

He stared at me.

"You can touch things." I said.

"No shit." He said, sounding amazed.

Skidmark grinned broadly as he finally got to poke his own dead body. I staggered to my feet, running through my plans in my head. I'd have Skidmark get the money, and we'd rejoin Allfather at whatever he was-

An explosion sounded from outside the warehouse, shaking dust from the walls. At the same time, I felt a huge chunk of Allfather's energy vanish. Mine poured in to fill the gap before I could stop it. The last bit of power I'd held onto flowed to Allfather.

Black spots appeared at the edge of my vision. Skidmark was saying something, but the words didn't make sense. I was… somewhere. The room was spinning around me and…

I was…

…dy…ing

…


	5. 1-5

1.5

Allfather strode across the warehouse. Sleeping Merchants groaned with pain as he trod on them, but he ignored them. One man woke as Allfather's heavy boots ground into his chest. The man wheezed out a litany of curses, clutching feebly at Allfather's boot. Allfather would have put him to the sword, but he knew Taylor was watching.

Outside the warehouse, the sun was just peeking over the horizon, and the night's chill was leaving the air. The area had changed significantly since he was alive. Gang signs- an 'M' with two vertical lines through it like a dollar sign, were everywhere. Judging by the collage of gray-white squares on most of the buildings, the residents had just gotten tired of covering them up after a while.

And then there were the people. He'd seen dozens of homeless on his way in with Taylor. Huddled in doorframes or alleyways, almost indistinguishable from their own filth. That Kaiser would tolerate their existence- that he would allow members of his own race to fall so low was an atrocity.

An engine roared, and he came back to the situation. The Merchant capes. Squealer had hauled herself into the cab of her vehicular monstrosity. Smoke belched thickly out of the machine's multiple exhausts as she revved it into life. The other two capes were running down the street, trying to get away.

More gutter trash. The three capes were white, but the some of the most utterly degenerate forms of it he'd ever seen. Whether they were a product of breeding with lesser races, or symptoms of a society in freefall were unimportant. What mattered was that they hadn't been dealt with.

Parahumans were an integral asset to running the Empire. And yet here were three white capes- maybe they were filth, but they were white, and they were capes. Three white capes that hadn't joined the Empire.

Utterly unacceptable.

Another one of Kaiser's failings to maintain order.

Allfather's grip tightened around his sword hilt. There would be a reckoning. That was for certain.

He moved toward the Merchant capes with strong, confident strides. With a thought, swords bloomed from nothing. The air rippled as blades pierced through it, until an armory's worth of swords hovered behind him like wings.

The reckoning would come.

A short time later, Allfather stood with his boot planted on the back of Mush's skull. The Merchant moaned quietly into the tarmac. Allfather considered that a good sign. It meant that the man could actually breathe under the mountain of trash and dirt that currently covered him.

While he wouldn't choose trash-golem creation or whatever Mush's power was, he couldn't deny that the Merchant cape had put up one hell of a fight. He'd lifted- actually _lifted_ Squealer's tinker truck. The damn thing had to weigh as much as a tank, and Mush had thrown it at him.

He'd speculate on why Mush hadn't been pressganged into the Empire, but it irked him that his thoughts were becoming a broken record. Another thing Kaiser had failed at. One more error in judgment by his worthless son. Yet again, Max drops the ball. Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.

He decided just to chalk the entire sorry state of Brockton Bay up to Kaiser and be done with it. It was short-sighted and childish to do, but it tempered his rage slightly.

Beating down Mush had helped also.

He checked the remaining Merchant capes one final time. Moist had escaped early in the fight. The man had just walked into a puddle and vanished. It still galled Allfather. How disgustingly cowardly would the man have to be to leave his comrades behind? Moist would find himself on the end of a sword when Allfather next saw him.

The other two were as he'd left them. Mush was staked to the ground, enough swords through his trash body that he looked like a pin-cushion. Squealer was nailed to the side of her truck in the same fashion. She was barely injured. He'd struck her lightly- with his _open fist_ and she'd whined for the rest of the fight about how he'd 'broke her fucking face.'

He'd pulled his punches for both of them. He'd avoided stabbing Mush anywhere he thought the man's physical body would be, and Squealer was only held in place by swords through her clothes. No sense wasting valuable resources by killing them.

And they _were_ valuable. Not just in the way that all capes were valuable, but in that they were _strong_. Mush's armor was tough and durable, and the trash-man had been loyal enough to back up Squealer even when she'd previously tried to kill him.

Squealer was… well, Allfather had an idea of where she'd gotten her name. And she was obviously a junkie. It didn't change the fact that the woman had built a working battle vehicle out of junk parts. One with enough gun turrets to reduce a good part of the street to smoking slag during the fight.

They could be brought around with some effort, or they could leave the city.

Simple as that. Just like the good ole days.

Granted, the 'good ole days' felt like yesterday to him, but he had a sense of how much time had passed. The city had changed. The city had decayed. Normally, that'd lead him into a spiel about Kaiser's failings, but he was really just dismayed at the whole thing.

Twelve years. Twelve years and Brockton Bay had stagnated all the while. Taylor understood in her own way, but she was a child. There was no way she'd comprehend what it was like to see the ruination of your life's work. That he'd return to find everything he'd worked so hard for had come to nothing.

For the second time that day, the sound of an engine roused him from his thoughts.

"Oh shit. We're so fucked now. It's the PRT!" Squealer moaned.

The sound grew closer; loud and powerful. A motorcycle, he thought. A moment later, his guess was confirmed as the bike roared around a corner. The machine rolled smoothly to a stop a safe distance away from them. Allfather shielded his eye from the blinding headlights, trying to see who the rider was.

The rider dismounted and walked forward slowly, silhouetted by the lights. That was a clever tactic; it was basically fighting with the sun to your back. This was someone used to controlling the field of battle.

Allfather walked to the side, out of the headlights' path. The rider came into focus, and Allfather stared.

The man wore a full suit of power armor, dark blue and silver, and more intricate than Allfather had ever seen. The only bit of skin he could see was the lower half of the man's face; he appeared Caucasian. With a flick of his wrist, the rider deployed a… it was a halberd. It looked like something out of a space opera, but it was essentially a halberd. His stance was neutral, but Allfather could sense a readiness in the man.

He couldn't stop himself from smiling. Here was a warrior. That he could just look at the newcomer and know that was promising. Perhaps not all the contemporary capes were degenerates after all.

"Identify yourself!" The man barked.

Allfather pulled one of the loose swords embedded in the ground and saluted the man. It was not the salute he'd given Taylor, but the salute one knight gave another.

"Allfather. To whom do I owe this honor?"

The man started slightly, but hid his surprise well. "Allfather died years ago."

"I know. And yet here I am. Will you introduce yourself, hero?" Allfather said.

"Is this supposed to be a joke? Something to stir up Kaiser?"

Allfather remained silent. The man stared at him for a long moment.

"Really?" He sighed exasperatedly. "… Armsmaster. Leader of the Protectorate East-North-East division."

Allfather nodded his acknowledgement. Not just any hero, but the head of Brockton's branch of the PRT. Very promising indeed.

"No. I'm not here to agitate Kaiser." He said. "I'm here to take his head and take back my throne."

Armsmaster's grip tightened around his halberd. "I don't know who you really are, but I'm not going to let that happen." He glanced at the two Merchant capes. "What about them?"

"I would hope they would join my Empire. The struggle for the white race is the duty of all whites after all. And if not, they are free to leave my city unharmed. Just as I've always done."

"I don't think so. They're under arrest, and you're coming in for questioning." Armsmaster said.

Armsmaster widened his stance and lowered his halberd. Allfather raised his sword in response. If his heart was beating, he knew it'd be pounding with excitement. Squealer and Mush had been exhilarating, but to face this Armsmaster in single combat was truly perfect.

"Don't disappoint me, Armsmaster."

Their blades met in a clash of metal. They deadlocked there, testing the other's strength and skill. Armsmaster shifted, putting his weight behind his halberd. Allfather's blade held for only a moment after that. With Armsmaster's full force on the halberd, it sliced cleanly through Allfather's sword. Allfather stumbled backward, laughing all the way.

"Impressive!"

He tossed the ruined sword aside, summoning a new one to hand. Armsmaster paused.

"That's Allfather's ability." Armsmaster said. His mouth quirked into a frown. "Attention Console. Possible Trump Scenario. Requesting immediate backup at my location."

Allfather laughed again. "A Doubting Thomas, I see. Is it so unlikely that I'm the real Allfather?"

"Yes."

Allfather's attack was slower this time; more deliberate. He probed Armsmaster's defenses, getting a feel for how the other man moved. His downward stroke was met with a parry off the angled haft of the halberd, leaving him open to a counter. Armsmaster swung his blade in a tight arc and cut a long gash in Allfather's pauldron.

"Good." Allfather said. "Very good."

He up-ed the intensity of his attacks, flicking his sword with all the speed and force he could muster. Armsmaster began to get pushed backward, shifting into the defensive under the onslaught. The only thing keeping Allfather from totally overwhelming the hero was his halberd. It ruined anything that hit the blade. At the end of each combo, Allfather had to throw his weapon aside and call a new one.

Armsmaster caught an attack under the hook of his halberd and drove both weapons into the ground. Allfather's sword was pinned there. Armsmaster took advantage of the opening and seized the front of Allfather's armor. Instantly, a powerful electrical current blasted through him, rocking him backward.

It did not hurt, Allfather realized. He understood that he was injured, but the sensation of pain was completely absent. That was… disappointing. He'd have to see if Taylor could turn his pain back on. A warrior ought to be able to feel his battle wounds.

"Built-in taser?" He asked.

Armsmaster grinned wolfishly. "Yep."

The hero's expression of triumph turned into shock when Allfather grabbed his wrist. He was stronger than Armsmaster, and they both knew it. He lifted him off the ground and threw him against Squealer's truck. Armsmaster hit hard, but caught himself on one of the embedded swords.

Armsmaster's halberd was behind Allfather now. He stepped aside, holding out a hand to the fallen weapon.

"Go on. Pick up it up and face me."

"Why?" Armsmaster didn't move. He had his armored fists raised.

"Because that is how I choose to fight. Man to man."

Armsmaster pulled something from a compartment on his armor. With a twist, it sprouted into a long rod, deploying a heavy blade on the end. A second halberd. Allfather wanted to laugh. This Armsmaster was a delight.

He drew a new sword, preparing to meet Armsmaster in combat again, when there was a noise from behind him. He dodged to the side on instinct, and was sent flying as something hit him like a speeding bus. He tumbled 20 feet down the street before he caught himself.

That odd, alien feeling of not-pain told him that his arm was likely broken. The bones grated together as he stood. Not painful, but very, _very_ uncomfortable. Definitely something to talk to Taylor about.

There were people standing by Armsmaster now. On one side, a young woman. Her suit glowed like there was a current running through it. On the other, a well-built man in a visor.

Disappointing. Very disappointing. His fight with Armsmaster was being interrupted.

"…imitates other parahumans, possibly. Let's go with Stranger protocols. If he's not acting, he's taking on their personality. He might be able to copy one of us." Armsmaster was saying something to the duo.

The man spoke. "Battery hit him pretty hard and he didn't show it. You think he's a Brute?"

Armsmaster nodded. "Almost certainly. That's not power armor, and he's too fast and strong to be a baseline."

"Will you introduce your associates?" Allfather called.

Armsmaster ignored him. He turned to the duo. "Formation Delta, Battery leads. Use that truck if you can. Hit him hard before he copies someone else. We don't need another Alexandria."

The trio of heroes fanned out, and Allfather summoned swords. Not the single weapons he'd used in his duel with Armsmaster, but the orbiting swarm of weapons he'd beaten Mush and Squealer with. Swords grew from nothing, pushing free from the air and whirling around him in a cloud.

Armsmaster hurled something at him. He shot a sword at it, but missed. It landed at his feet and the world went white. Not-pain lanced through his eye and he tried in vain to shield himself from the flashbomb's glaring rays. He staggered, too disoriented to keep his balance.

Only by planting a sword in the ground did he stay upright. He blinked away spots, his vision clearing rapidly, just in time to see Battery lift Squealer's truck over her head. Armsmaster was pulling Mush and Squealer away, zip-tying them further down the street. Allfather fired his batch of swords. His aim was clumsy at range. They pierced into the truck's armored hide, but missed Battery.

He called another batch of blades, just as the man positioned himself behind Battery. He made the new batch as big as he could. The swords that grew were gigantic, too big even for him to lift. They were still inside his range though, so he could control them. They picked up speed, spinning faster and faster around him like a propeller.

Battery glowed like the sun as she hefted the truck, and then threw it. The man leapt up behind her and drove his foot into the vehicle. Allfather had only an instant to angle his swords into a shield. The tinker truck moved at speeds no vehicle was meant to move. Not so much thrown as fired at him like a bullet.

It felt like the sky fell on him.

Distantly, he felt his body shatter, his armor rent in too many places to count. There was still no pain, but the sheer force of the impact was mind-numbing. There was heat as well. A furious, molten heat. That did not hurt either, but it was all too much.

Too much.

Overwhelming…

He grasped blindly for anything to hold onto.

His link with Taylor shone like a star in a void.

His store of energy was depleted. All but empty.

The link pulsed once, and life flowed along it.

Her energy trickled into his ruined body.

She was giving him another chance.

He opened his eye.

The world was on fire. He lay in the middle of a crater. The flaming hulk of Squealer's truck was all around him. His armor was red hot; parts of it were literally melting into his skin. He rolled over, and slowly pushed himself to his feet.

His skin pulled away from the meat where his armor pulled on it. His body was in an immense amount of not-pain. That did not bother him.

What bothered him was the connection. His link to Taylor was gone. In its place was a small reservoir of energy. Just pushing himself to his feet chipped off little bits of the energy.

He did not have long before he ran out.

Tentatively, he pulled on the store of power, and his head cleared.

Allfather stretched, and drew a sword to support himself. Using the weapon like a cane, he staggered out of the crater.

The trio of heroes stood down the street from him. The two Merchants were next to them, still tied up. He could hear sirens in the distance.

Armsmaster was speaking into a phone. "… a cleanup crew. … the tinker truck reacted adversely… don't know if he's alive."

Battery turned, and said something to the man next to her. All three of them were looking at him now.

"Ho-lee shit." The man said.

Allfather took a moment to catch his breath, metaphorically speaking- he didn't breathe. But he still stopped to gather his thoughts and energy before he acted. There was no way he could take all three of the heroes in a fight, especially if the woman was as powerful as she appeared. He needed to get Taylor and leave.

He began walking toward the warehouse. His steps grew smoother as he went. Whether that meant his body was repairing itself, or he was just getting the hang of being mangled, he wasn't sure.

The heroes didn't move, looking unsure of what to do.

"Are you sure he's not dead?" Battery said.

"I can't tell. He didn't have life signs to begin with." Armsmaster replied. "I'm wondering if he's a projection of some kind."

Allfather made it almost to the door of the warehouse before something else went wrong. The door swung open wildly, rebounding off the wall. A black man stepped out; he was carrying someone over one shoulder. He stared around the street at the bizarre scene.

"The fuck is all this?!" The man shouted.

"Skidmark!? Skiddy, you're alive!" Squealer shrieked.

"Shut the fuck up, bitch!" Skidmark roared. "I'm dead thirty goddamn seconds and everything goes to _shit!_ First _this_ ghost bitch shows up-" Skidmark dropped the person he was carrying to the street.

Allfather didn't hear the rest. The person Skidmark had dropped was Taylor. She was limp, her eyes closed. The nigger had done something to Taylor. Allfather snarled behind his visor. The fucking _ape_ had hurt Taylor!

"-and you're fighting some Kaiser looking motherfucker and-" Skidmark's sentence ended abruptly as Allfather took his head off. The severed head rolled into the warehouse. Skidmark's body swayed for a second, before toppling over.

"I'm not Kaiser." Allfather said, smirking.

As he watched, the body dissolved, fading away like smoke in the wind. Convenient. If only all niggers were that considerate…

Allfather reached for Taylor. He needed to get her out of here. If the nigger could hurt her, other people might be able to as well, and he was in no condition to protect her.

His fingertips had barely brushed her when he realized something critical. He was out of energy. The small store Taylor had sent him was gone. His movements slowed, and he felt himself fading away. Just like Skidmark had.

Bit by bit, pieces of him vanished. His extremities went first. The change accelerated as it went, until it swept across his body in a terrible wave.

The effect spread up his arms, his shoulders, his chest, his neck, his-

He thought of Caroline.


	6. 1-6

1.6

(…)

Waking up was something I regretted instantly. I was exhausted. More than that; beyond simple fatigue, there was pure, bone-deep _cold_. It filled me; chilled me to the core. I tried to curl up to gather some little warmth, but the movement only reminded me of how awful I felt.

Concrete scraped against my cheek, and I opened my eyes. Even doing that much was an effort.

I lay halfway into the gutter, flopped across the sidewalk. Where exactly I was, I couldn't say, but judging from the view I had with my head hanging into the street… it was a bad neighborhood. A _really_ bad neighborhood. The pile of flaming slag in the road, surrounded by an army's worth of swords was a tip off.

For a while, I just lay there, watching the hypnotic red-blue, red-blue of the PRT vans' lights. There were a lot of them. People were rushing around. They all seemed to be very busy and energetic. I envied them for that.

There were things I had to do, but for the life of me, I couldn't remember them at the moment. I was too tired. Even my thoughts were slow and fragmented… Staying awake was too much effort…

After a while, some of the vans left. A tall man and a skinny woman I recognized were herded into the back of one. What were their names again… Squash and Skidder… no. That wasn't right…

Hadn't… someone said they were going to deal with those two? Someone I knew. What was _his_ name though? He was really tall… and he wore armor. …Father? Nah, that wasn't right either. Dad didn't wear armor.

One of the PRT workers walked by. He was carrying an armful of swords. Other workers were cleaning up the battlefield in the street now. They kept walking through me. I'd have been annoyed if it weren't so much work…

The worker fumbled one of the swords, grabbed for it, and lost the entire bundle. The swords clattered to the street, a few narrowly missing me. I could see my reflection in one of the blades.

And I could see the sidewalk behind me.

 _Through_ me.

I blinked, forcing myself to focus. And then I looked again. I was lying on the curb outside the Merchant warehouse, looking at myself in one of Allfather's swords, and I was _transparent_.

Panic gave me the energy I needed to stay focused. I was some weird parahuman equivalent of a ghost, but I hadn't been see-through before. That I was now was a bad sign. I had a feeling that my exhaustion and my transparency were linked. Like I was… lessened in some way. Or was I just too tired to hold it together? If I just flopped out and gave up, would I die?

There was no way I was going out like this. I kept telling myself that whenever I almost died, but I meant it. I had too much to do.

I had to get up, but I needed help. My body felt like frozen lead. I pushed Allfather's shard into action. It was undignified, but if it came down to getting princess-carried by a Nazi vs. dying in the gutter, I knew what I'd pick. Allfather's shard stirred, moving toward the edge of my will and-

 _Broken_.

His shard was shattered. The core of his being was still there, but Allfather as a whole was in pieces. What had happened to him? I remembered him going to fight Squealer and the Merchants, but I'd passed out before I saw what happened. I had plenty of other questions; how had I gotten outside the warehouse, for one? And what had happened to- …oh. Floating next to Allfather was a new presence.

Skidmark's form was degraded; almost like his soul was pitted and damaged in some way. It was different from Allfather's injuries. This felt… inherent? Was Skidmark _that_ messed up as a person, or did it represent the psychological harm all his excesses had done him? And yet, beyond that, Skidmark was injured too. Less than Allfather, but still damaged.

Both my ghosts were unusable, and I was one stiff breeze away from death. Wonderful.

Slowly, with arms that felt like jello, I pushed myself up to a sitting position. Moving that much left the world spinning around me, and I thought I might be a little more transparent.

I was so low on energy that fucking _moving_ could kill me. I wanted to get angry at the situation- at my own weakness, if I wasn't sure that doing so would also kill me. Damned if I did, damned if I didn't…

I ended up sitting on the curb, my arms wrapped around my knees. I drifted in and out of sleep, coming to whenever someone passed by or something loud happened. One moment I'd be watching the PRT workers putting out the flaming wreckage in the street. The next, they'd be sweeping up the last twisted bits of metal.

One of the swords stayed in the gutter for a long time. The PRT guy had just never picked it up. I used the blade to check my transparency whenever I woke. I looked a little better after sitting for a while, but I was still partially see-through. Some of the cold had even receded. It seemed like if I sat there long enough, I'd eventually recover.

Only… I really didn't want to. Sitting alone on curb in a bad part of town, surrounded by trash and broken metal was depressing. Worse than sitting by my grave in some ways. The PRT would leave soon, and then my only company would be the homeless and any of the Merchants who hadn't gotten arrested. Judging by the long line of said Merchants that got led out of the warehouse in handcuffs, I wasn't going to see many of them.

I needed to rest- to recover. And I wasn't going to be able to do either of those things here. I could go back to the Boat Graveyard and find the ship I'd tried to sleep in… had it only been last night? And I'd only known Allfather for about twelve hours. We'd spent a large part of that time talking, but still… This whole ordeal felt like it'd lasted days.

A poetic way of describing the rest of my time on the curb would be that I was 'contemplating my situation.'

I wasn't. I was tired and cold and lonely, and I couldn't leave because I could barely move. My 'contemplation' took the form of sniffling and trying not to get upset because it'd waste more of my energy.

About the only thing being invisible was good for at the moment was that I could be totally miserable and no one would see me.

…just like school.

Okay, fuck it. I was going to cry about that. Even if I didn't have the energy. I was stuck in a shitty neighborhood, my only friend was a Nazi supervillain, and the trio was probably off having the time of their lives.

How had Emma gone from my best friend to my _murderer_? Sophia played a part there, but there had to be more to it. I was going to get to the bottom of that-

A Protectorate car rolled up alongside me and stopped. The driver's door opened and a man leaned out. I barely looked at him. Without thinking- without considering my energy for a second, I lunged for the car. I went through the door and into the back seat. My hands kept going, poking into the floor before I focused, concentrating on not phasing.

The effort left me panting, and the cold shot up my arms like needles. It didn't matter though, because I was in the car, on a soft seat, and not some desolate curb in skid row.

The driver picked up the sword from the gutter. He examined it, turning it over in his hands before setting it in the passenger's seat.

I closed my eyes as I felt the car start moving again. A stranger's car wasn't a great spot, but it was better than where I was.

The sound of the engine turning off roused me. Just waking up was a lot easier now. That it didn't hurt to be alive was a good sign. The sky outside the car was the mixed orange-blue of oncoming night. I'd slept all day.

The driver was about to get out when his phone rang. He stayed in the driver's seat while he answered.

"Johnson here. Yeah, I saw the tape. You-Know-Who wants a copy." He paused, listening. "Uh-huh, you watched it? How fucked up was that? The way she _screamed_ , and-" he broke off laughing. "Yeah yeah, get me the tape and I'll pass it along to my contact. I think he's got a line straight to the top." The driver made to hang up, and then stopped.

"Shit! I forgot, you still there Jameson? Great. Listen, I forgot to mention it. Besides the tape, I need a complete copy of Shadow Stalker's file. Dunno why, but Coil- _fuck_ , I mean- You know." He hesitated. "This phone is secure, right? He'd have my ass if I blew my cover like that."

The driver listened for a few more moments, and then he hung up. He blew out a deep breath before he got out of the car. It sounded like he was cursing quietly as he vanished into the house. It was a non-descript two-story you'd see in any suburb. The neighborhood looked oddly familiar though…

I ghosted through to the front seat. Moving wasn't effortless, but I didn't feel like my skull was about to explode anymore. I was tempted to go see what the PRT guy was talking about, but I was tired and it wasn't worth the effort.

The sword was still sitting in the passenger's seat. Out of curiosity, I picked it up. It was so heavy I had to use both hands to-

 _Holy shit_.

I was so startled I dropped the sword. The blade sliced a hole in the seat. Little wisps of stuffing poofed out, but I ignored them. I'd just picked something up. I, with my ghost hands, had just physically interacted with, and lifted something.

I hefted Allfather's discarded sword again. The leather grip was smooth against my palms. The rest of the sword was… well, I didn't know much about swords, but I could see that it definitely reflected its owner. Plain, undecorated except for a swastika engraved in the crossguard. It was functional; something made to be used.

Or maybe it was easier for him to create if he kept the design simple. I didn't have any idea. I didn't find swords all that interesting; it's just that I was freaking out a little bit over being able to _touch_ something. I was able to get a feel for things around me through touch, but they were muted- almost distant. Like I was touching something with numb fingers. Allfather's sword wasn't like that. It was _real_ to me.

Was that because Allfather had made it? I could touch ghosts, so I supposed it made sense that I could touch things that ghosts made.

I cradled the sword for a little bit, just enjoying the feeling. It was only when I noticed that I could see the sword's grip through my hand that I remembered why I was there.

I needed to rest. And I had an idea of where I could go now. I recognized the Protectorate worker's neighborhood for a reason. He lived a couple blocks over from my house. I could be home within minutes.

I left the sword in the car. Not for any stealth reasons- it just wouldn't phase through the door with me, so I couldn't get it out.

Getting home was easier said than done though. I'd regained a little energy, but dragging my sorry body across those couple of blocks was like hiking up a mountain. Only the thought of getting home kept me going. It was _still_ my home, regardless of anything that had happened.

Walking home the normal way would take time and energy that I didn't have. I ended up phasing through anything in my path and walking straight toward my house. It cut my travel time big time, but it still took me a conscious effort to walk through things. 'Avoid the obstacle' was so ingrained that I instinctively stopped myself every time I headed for a tree or wall.

My arms and legs were almost fully transparent when my house came into view. The only reason I still knew that I had my limbs was because they were cold. It felt like I was holding them in ice water, and the cold didn't stop there. Each step sent little tendrils of frost further into me.

I stumbled up the back steps and fell through the door.

I was home.

It was dark inside. The only light was the bluish glow of the tv in the living room. I'd planned on sleeping in my own bed, but I could barely walk. I half-crawled, half-dragged myself to the living room. There were boxes all over the hallway. I ignored them, focusing only on moving forward.

Dad would be there. Dad would be there and I would be safe.

He was. I leaned against the doorframe, staring at him. The television was on, but he wasn't watching it. He just stared blankly into the screen; his eyes unseeing.

For a second, I thought that he'd aged; like I'd been gone for years, like some kind of Rip Van Winkle. The tv's light illuminated all the lines in his face, making him look older than he was.

And yet… he looked tired. More tired than I'd ever seen him. Not just tired physically, but spiritually as well. The only time I'd ever seen anything approaching this was when Mom had died.

I was still staring when he turned off the tv and walked out of the room.

"Goodnight Dad." I whispered.

He didn't give any sign that he'd heard me.

I took his spot on the couch. Sleep drifted over me, and I tried not to think about why I felt like a stranger in my own home.


	7. 1-7

1.7

When I woke in the morning, the house was empty. I'd slept in late and Dad had already gone to work.

"School day, guess I'm skipping," I chuckled darkly. Or I thought it was. I wasn't really sure what day it was anymore.

I stretched out on the couch, relaxing sleepily. My body still ached a little, but I felt almost normal. I wasn't cold at all, and I was back to full… not-transparency? Opacity, I supposed.

I needed some normalcy at the moment. No ghost stuff, no cold, no _nothing_. I reached for the tv remote. My hand phased through it, leaving me feeling extremely stupid.

Right… That whole ghost thing wasn't going to stop just because I was tired of it. I sighed and decided to bite the bullet. If I wanted to affect anything physically, I needed ghosts. And they were both injured.

Their crystals were damaged, but they were still with me. Could I… fix them in some way? I tried willing them to go back together in the same way that I willed them out of my power. They didn't move. I had a feeling that the whole 'shattered crystal' thing was more of a metaphor than anything. Just my mind's way of interpreting my powers.

Allfather had responded in the past when I'd transferred energy to him. He'd started out barely coherent before I boosted him. And there was the initial loss of energy that came when I manifested a new ghost. I got less functional the less of my energy I had. Everything came back to my energy.

…was I like a walking battery? Was it that simple? Did I power ghosts?

I pushed some of my energy into Allfather's shard. There was a sense of _joining_ and I felt our link spring up again. My energy began transferring to him, becoming his energy. Slowly, his fragmented shard began drawing back together.

The energy leaving me was significant. Not as much as it took me to manifest him for the first time, but enough that cold started winding its way up my fingers. I made ready to sever our link if I started running out.

Finally, the last bit of Allfather fell into place, and his shard gained a sense of _wholeness_. It'd taken a lot of my energy, but I still felt good. I'd figured out another aspect of my power. I started the same process on Skidmark's crystal.

His repair was much quicker. His crystal was less damaged, and it came together with less energy from me than Allfather's. It felt like the more damage to the crystal, the more it cost me to repair.

Yeah, I was a glorified ghost battery.

Skidmark's shard finished, and I flopped back on the couch. With a push, I summoned both ghosts into being. At once, Allfather loomed over the room from next to the tv, and Skidmark stood scowling in the doorway to the kitchen.

"…the fuck?" Skidmark said. He glanced around the room suspiciously.

"Taylor." Allfather said. He was at my side in an instant. "Are you hurt?"

"Tired." I groaned. "You're in my house. Need to rest."

He nodded. "I will keep-" He stopped, staring over at Skidmark. "What is he doing here? I killed him."

"He's a ghost." I said. Did we really need to have a conversation now? I was tired again.

"You're not safe with him here." Allfather drew his sword. "I will remedy the situation."

I growled something that I hoped sounded like a "no."

Skidmark stopped examining Dad's movie collection when Allfather's sword came out.

"Make a move, bitch." Skidmark raised a hand threateningly. "I'll skullfuck you in front of your whore. So cmon, make a move if you've got the balls, you bitchass queer."

Allfather moved before I could stop him. There was a blur of steel, and Skidmark's head left his body. It rolled to a stop at the foot of the couch. I expected a spray of blood, but there wasn't one.

Words failed me again. I tried to say "holy shit, what the fuck." It came out as a high-pitched whimper. Allfather sheathed his blade with an air of satisfaction.

I tried again. "Allfather, what the hell-" It just wasn't my day to talk. Energy rushed out of me in a torrent. It poured down my connection with Skidmark, melding with his energy. Skidmark's body flickered, and then disappeared. He reappeared where he was, his head back on.

"Jesus pissing _Christ!_ " He yelled, feeling at his neck. "You sliced my fucking head off _again,_ you weeping cunt!" He grabbed a paper weight off a table and lobbed it at Allfather. The armored Nazi leaned to the side and let the weight fly past.

"How annoying." Allfather said. He drew his sword once more. "Third time's the charm."

" _No!_ " I shouted. "Everyone fucking stop!"

Skidmark stopped rummaging around for more things to throw, and Allfather paused in midswing.

"Everyone. Just. _Stop._ " I said firmly. "Allfather, over there." I pointed to one side of the room. "Skidmark, there." I indicated the opposite side. They both grumbled, but I did my best to imitate Mom's 'And I mean it'-face. After a moment, they separated.

"Good. Allfather, I need you to stop killing Skidmark."

"He's a threat. I won't leave a young woman unattended when there's a nigger around."

"Allfather," I cut in. "I need you to stop killing Skidmark because he's one of my ghosts also. Any time you hurt him, the energy comes out of me. So by hurting him, you're hurting _me_."

It was hard to tell with all the armor, but Allfather managed to look embarrassed.

"I'm sorry Taylor."

Skidmark laughed nastily from across the room. "She's got you whipped. Fucking big man got himself pussy whipped by the skinny little white bitch."

Allfather turned to me, his voice deceptively calm. "I really should take care of him. I'm sure I can manage something that doesn't hurt him too badly."

"I forbid you two from fighting."

"You forbid me?" Allfather said. "Taylor, we are allies, but you don't give the orders here."

"Don't I?" I said. Anger rose in my voice. I was getting pissed off the longer the two ghosts kept me from sleeping. "Because it looks like you're both dependent on me to even exist. So when I call the shots, you better listen."

Skidmark opened his mouth to speak, and I held up a finger.

"Skidmark, if you antagonize Allfather again, I'm unsummoning you."

Skidmark closed his mouth.

"Now." I said. "Allfather, would you _please_ turn on the television?"

He did so, taking a seat beside me on the couch.

"Ain't this goddamn fucking great." Skidmark groused. "I'm stuck with Darth Klansman and his friend, Ghost Bitch."

Allfather made to stand up, but I glared at him until he stayed seated. Skidmark wandered off into the kitchen, still complaining under his breath.

After Skidmark was out of earshot, Allfather turned to me. "Did you have to resurrect the nig-"

"Allfather, if you say that word, I'm unsummoning you."

"…did you have to resurrect the person of… African American descent?" He finished awkwardly.

That was honestly a good question though. Why had I linked with Skidmark? He was generally disgusting and unpleasant, and he'd been an asshole in both our interactions so far.

"It… it felt like the right thing to do?" I said. "I can't explain why. I just knew there was a dead cape out there, and I needed to find him. And when I found him, I needed to make a deal with him."

"A deal?" Allfather said.

I explained what Skidmark wanted, and what I'd agreed to.

"That was a poor choice, Taylor. His demands may turn out to be unfeasible or downright impossible."

"I know. I just- I have to try."

"Because it feels right?" Allfather said.

"Yeah." I said. "I didn't forget your deal though."

Allfather didn't answer, but I felt like he smiled at me. He sat back, and after a moment, pulled off his helmet and set it on the coffee table. Conversation mostly died off at that point. I'd ask him to change the channel, and he would. Occasionally, one of us would comment on a show or movie that was on.

I felt myself slowly drifting off to sleep. The tv was a pleasant background noise. It was the way I'd always fallen asleep when I was sick. I'd curl up in a blanket and just doze with the tv droning on quietly.

"There's no fucking food in this place!"

The peaceful reverie broke apart as Skidmark stormed back into the room. He had a box of flour in one hand. A sword embedded itself in the wall, narrowly missing his head.

"Taylor was sleeping, nigger." Allfather snarled. More swords spiked out of the air behind him, all aimed at Skidmark.

Skidmark ignored him. "Hey, Skinny Bitch, where's all the food at? Only thing in the fridge is this shit." He held up the flour like it was crucial evidence.

I stared at him. "You're a _ghost_. You don't need to eat."

Skidmark dropped the box on the floor. Flour puffed up around him like smoke.

"Fine. Fuck it." He said. "There's no food, and the house is a shithole. Where's the drugs at? This feels like a place with some good shit."

I was about to answer him, when the words sunk in. I looked around the room. He was right. The house was a mess. Half-filled boxes were everywhere, and the room was in total disarray. Dad and I weren't the neatest people, but the house had never been as bad as it was now.

But what had changed?

… _oh_.

"Dad hasn't been taking care of it since I died."

Allfather was poking through one of the boxes.

"Taylor, I think your father might be moving out." He said.

It felt like the bottom dropped out of my stomach.

"…he's… moving?" I gasped.

"Maybe."

"I ain't splitting anything I find with you. Finders fucking keepers." Skidmark said. He moved toward the stairs, and I unsummoned him. I was in no mood for his shit at the moment.

I worried the hem of my shirt as I tried to think of what to do. Dad was moving. Of course he was. There was nothing but memories tying him to the house. He was the only member of our family left!

 _Oh fuck fuck fuck fucking fuck_ -

"Taylor, take a deep breath." Allfather said soothingly. "He _might_ be moving."

I took a single deep breath and then continued hyperventilating. Allfather took me by the shoulder and slapped me across the face. Or he tried to. His hand passed through my cheek like I wasn't there.

"Huh." We both said.

Allfather balled up his fist and aimed a light punch at my shoulder. Again, the blow passed through me. He poked me gently in the arm, and I felt his gloved finger touch my skin. Before I could protest, he poked at me again, this time with his sword. I didn't even feel it.

"It seems that I can't hurt you." Allfather said. My panic was dying away at this new revelation.

"Now that you're calm," he continued. "Why don't I just speak to your father and explain your situation?"

…

…

"I- that's- fuck- that- is-" I stuttered. I buried my face in my hands. It was so _obvious_. Now that I had my ghosts I could communicate with people. I could tell Dad that I was okay!

"I'll take that as a yes." Allfather said.

"We'll wait until he gets home." I said. Something warm flared within me.

It felt like… hope.

I sat contemplating what I'd say to Dad. It was going to be downright bizarre speaking to him through Allfather. I couldn't touch Dad, and he couldn't see me, but we could still talk to each other.

Allfather broke into my thoughts. "Taylor, look." He pointed at the television.

 _What_.

My picture was on screen. That was my school photo. No other pictures ever looked as awkward as my school photo. After a moment, the picture minimized to a corner of the screen and the news anchor continued his report.

"…Hebert's body was found in a locker at Winslow High School last week. Initial reports placed the death as a tragic accident, but shocking new information has come to light."

He paused for a moment, and then with disturbing enthusiasm added, "See it only on Channel 4."

The news cut to a content warning, and then rolled a video. It was grainy, low quality, like something shot on a camcorder or cell phone. Every time it moved the edges pixelated. It focused on a floor, and then swirled about wildly before settling on two girls.

Two girls that I knew.

Sophia and Emma were hunched over an open locker in a hallway I recognized from Winslow. The camera moved in closer, coming up behind them.

"It _reeks_." Emma said. She giggled at Sophia's reply, but the camera didn't catch what was said.

The camera continued hovering at about waist-level, and the person filming kept putting their fingers over the screen. It was like they were hiding the camera. Like they didn't want it to be seen.

"Didn't think you were that squeamish, Madison." Sophia said with a smirk. "Don't want to get your hands dirty?" She was wearing a pair of thick rubber gloves and dumping a drywall bucket full of…

 _It was my locker_.

 _They were putting together the trap in my locker._

Distantly, I felt my hands start shaking and pressed them against my knees. My eyes stayed riveted on the screen. They were laughing and joking while they set up my locker.

"Think fast!" Emma cried, and she flicked a bit of filth at Madison. The camera jolted wildly as Madison dived out of the way. Emma and Sophia both laughed again.

After a moment, Emma set the bucket aside and slammed the locker door with an air of finality.

"This'll do it. She'll show us what she's made of for sure."

"She's a pussy." Sophia said.

"You'll see." Emma said, her voice confident. "She'll come out of it _better_. A survivor. Like I did."

Sophia scoffed. "Once a bitch, always a bitch." She turned and ambled off down the hall, the bucket under one arm.

Emma hesitated for a moment, and then followed after. The camera watched them go before turning to the locker door.

"Jesus Christ." Madison whispered.

The camera cut to black.

After a few seconds, text appeared. The clip took on a different feeling, like it was something added on to Madison's video. It felt cheap; the kind of cheap you saw in amateur youtube videos.

[The black girl in the video is Sophia Hess.]

Sophia's school photo appeared. A screencap of Sophia from the video lined up beside it. They were clearly the same person.

[Interesting?]

[Not as interesting as this.]

A new picture appeared alongside the first two; a woman in a hooded cloak, wearing a mask. A cape. I blinked. Was that Shadow Stalker?

More shots rolled in. A close-up of Shadow Stalker. A still of Shadow Stalker fighting. Shadow Stalker clearly illuminated by a streetlight.

Interspersed with these pictures were more of Sophia. Sophia at track. Sophia posing with Emma and Madison. Sophia laughing as she dumped waste into my locker.

"Oh my god." I said.

"Taylor, what's going on?" Allfather said. He looked between me and the television. "Why are you on the news?"

More pictures. Damning pictures. Sophia changing in an alleyway, a mask in one hand. Shadow Stalker being struck during a fight, her mask askew. A long-shot of Shadow Stalker on a rooftop, talking to a red-haired girl.

[Get the point?]

[What does one of Brockton Bay's Wards have to do with a dead girl?]

[Who watches the watchmen?]

"We've received this absolutely _shocking_ video from an anonymous source." The news anchor cut in, his plastic smile firmly in place. "For those of you who've just tuned in…"

"Turn it off." I said.

"What?" Allfather sounded concerned. "Taylor, are you-"

"Turn off the fucking tv."

Allfather complied. I stared dumbly at the blank screen.

Sophia Hess was Shadow Stalker.

All the pieces fell into place. I _understood_. A hundred confusions coalesced into one shining, awful realization. Not just about Sophia, but about Winslow, and the Wards, and why all the teachers looked the other way.

"Allfather, I'm going to put you away for a little while." I was perfectly calm. Allfather opened his mouth, but before he could speak, I unsummoned him.

It was fortunate that no one could hear me.

When Allfather came into being again, I was slumped over on the couch.

"Taylor, you've been crying." Allfather said.

"Yeah." My voice came out a rasp. My throat was raw and sore from screaming.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

I shook my head. "Not now. Maybe- maybe later." I laughed a little, and then regretted it when my throat twinged with pain. It was funny though. I had an easier time talking to a dead supervillain than my own father. I'd never even mentioned the bullying to Dad.

But… but now… I could change that. Use my second chance to do things right. And the first step to doing things right was…

"When my Dad gets home, I'm telling him everything." I sniffed a little, and met Allfather's gaze. "She killed me. That girl in the video killed me."

Allfather was silent for a long moment. "You're going to kill her." It was not a question.

"Not yet." I said. "I have to talk to Dad first. He needs to know."

"I stand with you, Taylor."

"Thanks." My fist was clenched so tight that my nails were cutting into my palm. "And after that we're going to find Sophia. We're going to find _Shadow Stalker_."

Allfather smiled viciously. "And my wrath shall wax hot."

I curled up on the couch. "Is that a quote?"

"A bible verse. It's probably out of context. I only ever remember it because it involves swords." He paused. "Shall I go?"

"Do you want to?"

"Save your strength. Call me when your father comes home." He smiled again- a wolf's smile; hard and unforgiving. "When I come next, I'll teach you what it means to kill."

I matched his smile, and Allfather vanished once more, returning to my power.

I snuggled deeper into the couch. My understanding had crystalized into something new; something darker, born from two years of hell. I wasn't angry. I had something infinitely worse than anger.

I had conviction.

I had conviction, and I knew _exactly_ what Allfather meant about wrath.

When sleep came, I didn't dream. I lay like the dead; peaceful in my knowledge of what was to come. Of what I was going to do to Sophia.

The back door slammed and I came awake all at once.

Dad was home. Dad was home and I could finally talk to him.

Finally come clean.

We'd be a family again.

I scrambled across the room and bolted straight through the wall. There was an instant of the cobwebbed space between the walls, a cold darkness that was the fridge, and then I was in the kitchen.

The light was on, and two people were standing in the fluorescent glow. Neither one was my father. I stared at them in incomprehension.

Why were they here? …Didn't they work with Dad?

"I'll head upstairs and get some clothes." The man- Kurt said.

"Right. Let me uh…" Lacey hesitated.

"His insurance papers. See if those are around. The hospital doesn't need them, but they'll help."

"I just- I mean Christ, Kurt. I can't believe Dan'd do something like that."

Kurt didn't say anything. The expression on his face told me all I needed to know.

Grim disbelief and worry.

Dad was in trouble.


	8. 1-8, Browbeat

When it was originally posted, this chapter ended with Sophia shooting and killing Browbeat after he refuses her. One of the major problems with Speak that persisted throughout its run was that I had trouble getting Taylor's character down. Sophia is also pretty difficult to get right, and it showed in the first draft.

After some advice from readers, and a lot of discussion, the ending was changed to a much more nuanced and human portrayal of Sophia.

SPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAK

SPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAK

Interlude- Browbeat

( _No New Messages_ )

Neil snapped the phone closed. Amanda was supposed to call him with the details. Maybe it was a little desperate of him to check his phone every other minute, but he didn't want to blow his chance. Amanda was worth it. He wouldn't miss her call for anything.

That, and surveillance was pretty damn boring. No matter how much he enhanced his body, the cold still bothered him, and November in Brockton Bay was _cold_. The wind swept across the rooftops with a knife's edge, piercing right through his jacket. It wasn't heavy enough for the weather. Heavy clothes would be too cumbersome to get off when he replaced Kazuo.

As it was, Kazuo was below in the alley. He was huddled around an oil drum fire with a bunch of the other Asian Bad Boyz. They were supposed to be doing… something. Neil still hadn't quite figured out what exactly. Holding territory, he thought. It seemed pointless though. The streets were all but deserted; too cold for even the homeless to be out. There was no one for the ABB to sell to, harass, rob, or anything else.

The sound of rough laughter floated up to him. Neil peered over the edge of the roof. The tall one… what was his name- Dae? He ought to know by now. Dae… something Korean… _Dai_. Dai had made a joke, and the others were laughing at it.

Kazuo shouted something back and tossed a bottle into the fire. He ambled off down the alley. Neil followed the ganger from the roof. Kazuo turned a corner into a side-alley and stopped beside a dumpster. Neil positioned himself above Kazuo and waited.

Steam rose in the chilly air as Kazuo relieved himself on the dumpster. Neil cringed as the thug's sigh of relief floated up to him. After a few moments, Kazuo turned, zipped up, and checked his phone. The tiny screen glowed like a beacon in the dark alley.

Neil checked his surroundings once more. The alleys were clear in both directions; all the other ABB had stayed at the oil drum.

Without further hesitation, Neil vaulted over the edge of the roof. Gravel gritted under his palms and wind whipped through his hair. Falling was always a rush. A fire escape was two floors below. He hit the railing with both feet. Even through his TK, the impact was bone-jarring. The railing bent slightly, but he was already moving. He hit the opposite wall of the alley, and then zig-zagged downward between the walls. His TK gave him a grip where there was none, and traction even on the featureless concrete walls.

One of Neil's shoes clanged against a drainpipe, and Kazuo looked up. The look on his face was _perfect_. His jaw dropped; he actually, honest to god jaw-dropped. Neil hit the ground behind him in the three-point landing he'd learned from Aegis. It was a flier's move, but Neil liked using it anyway. It just said "badass" in a way that few other things did.

"What the-" Kazuo's words cut off as Neil caught him in a chokehold. Kazuo struggled hard, but Neil had no trouble keeping a grip on him. Kazuo slowly went limp, his struggles dying off. Neil held the chokehold for a little longer even after Kazuo stopped moving. He'd taken that lesson to heart after a Merchant had played possum and stuck a knife in him.

Quickly, he stripped Kazuo's outer layer of clothes. The man was about his height- it was why he'd chosen him in the first place. Neil's clothes went into his bag and he stowed it behind the dumpster. Kazuo didn't have one, so he'd have to come back for the bag later. The narrow alley caught the winter air like a wind tunnel, and he turned his back to the wind.

Neil checked Kazuo's pulse- slow but steady, and then zip-tied him. He stuffed the unconscious thug under a pile of bulging trash bags. It was gross, but it was too cold to leave him out in the open air.

The clothes he'd appropriated from Kazuo were too tight. Neil cursed under his breath and ducked behind the dumpster. He tried again. The clothes were definitely too tight. He checked again to be sure that the alley was empty before he began to change.

With a thought, his outer layer of skin rippled and shifted. Underneath it, his muscles bunched up with a horrible itching feeling. The fibers reconstructed themselves, redistributing to be smaller and weaker. Neil fell to his knees as the transformation covered his legs. Dampness seeped into the knees of his stolen jeans, but he ignored it, focusing only on the change.

His face came last. He paused the transformation and moved to sit beside Kazuo. He needed a reference point or he'd never get it right. Faces were just too specific- too detailed. Anything wrong with a face would set people off immediately.

Bodies were infinitely easier. Not just by virtue of being mostly covered, but because people were hard-wired to read faces. Armsmaster had mentioned it to him before. Called it the 'uncanny canyon' or something like that.

There was a small compact he kept in his bag for just such an occasion. It was actually one of Vista's spares. She'd given it to him after he'd had the idea to use one on a mission. It was girly- Hello Kitty themed, but he used it all the same. It was a nice reminder that he was on a team. That even though he wasn't as smooth as Aegis or as funny as Clockblocker, he could still make friends in his own way.

He set the compact in his lap and guided the shift with his fingers. The bigger details he molded into his face like he was kneading clay. Sharper cheekbones, a flatter nose, a change in hair color. The fine features he did with a fingertip; applying little more than a brush or a poke to shape his face. A small scar on one cheek, angled eyebrows, and finally, the little fold in the eyebrow.

"How do I look?" He said to the unconscious Kazuo. He checked his face against Kazuo's. An adjustment to the angle of the nose. Their eye colors were different… Neil's were blue, and Kazuo's brown.

That was a problem. He didn't like changing eye colors during a mission. An error could cost him acuity or vision at a crucial moment. He weighed the option, and then decided to just go with it. It was dark out, and the ABB probably wouldn't notice. Kazuo had already been gone a suspicious amount of time.

He pulled on Kazuo's clothes. They were still tight, but they fit. Tossing some more garbage bags over Kazuo, he headed back toward the ABBs. His nerves grew as he approached the fire barrel. They'd know for sure that something was wrong. They'd see something wrong with his face.

"You get fuckin lost or something, Kaz?" One of the men shouted at him. The rest turned to look. Neil searched his mind for the name of the man who'd shouted. Shorter, close-cropped hair, eyebrow piercing… Han.

"Just visiting your mama, Han." He said with a smirk.

"Ahh, fuck you!" Han said. The other ABBs laughed, and the tension broke. Neil took Kazuo's spot in the circle.

He stayed quiet while the rest of the men bantered back and forth. The changes he'd made to his throat helped him imitate Kazuo's voice. Vocals were one of the things he was worst at, and he wasn't confident in holding any longer conversations with Kazuo's voice.

Time passed slowly, and his nerves slowly grew. What if they noticed something? What if he fucked up Kazuo's voice?

It was nearly an hour later when a phone rang. Neil almost had a heart attack. _Amanda_! She'd blow his cover! He fumbled wildly for his phone.

"Mine." Said one of the men. It was Ji Woo. Neil stuffed his phone back into his pants, praying that no one had noticed his panic.

Ji Woo stepped a few feet away to take the call. Neil tried to listen in, but Ji Woo was responding in what Neil thought was Mandarin. He didn't know a word of the language, and it didn't make him feel any better. What if Kazuo knew Mandarin or Japanese and the other gang members knew that?

After a minute, Ji Woo walked back to the barrel.

"Lee's coming. We're going to go fuck up some Empire shit." Ji Woo scrubbed a hand through his long hair, looking annoyed. "'s too fuckin cold for this."

"Lee's coming?" Takeshi cut in.

Ji Woo nodded. "I was talking to Hyung. He says Lung was busy and Kaze hates the cold, so we got Lee."

"Shit. I like working with Kaze." Han said. He grinned. "That bitch is _fine._ "

Takeshi snorted. "She'd cut your dick off."

Han opened his mouth to reply, and froze as a hand landed on his shoulder.

Oni Lee stood beside him, his demon mask impassive in the firelight. Neil wasn't the only one who jumped. The cape had come out of the night so silently that Neil hadn't even seen him.

"I will give Black Kaze your regards." Oni Lee said. Han went white. He shoved Han to the side and stepped closer to the barrel. The circle of ABB edged back slightly as Lee approached. If Lee noticed, he gave no sign.

"We are going six blocks west to Sycamore and Westlake." Lee's voice was a monotone; so flat that it ground the accent out of his words. "There is an Empire 88 safehouse there. It is the central drop point for dealers in this area. They are processing a large quantity of money there tonight. We will go and take it from them, and then we will burn the house to the ground."

A sort of collective excitement went around the circle as Lee spoke. Several of the men yelled their approval.

"Quiet." Lee said. "We go in quietly. Let their screams be the noise."

He turned and walked down the alley. He didn't look back; moving as though the ABB would follow him as a matter of fact.

Neil dropped to the back of the group as the gang members fell in behind Oni Lee. He'd thought that this group of thugs was going to commit a robbery, or if he was lucky, lead him to one of their drug dens.

Having _Oni Lee_ show up was a nightmare. All three of the ABB's capes were way out of his league, but Lee was the one he least wanted to meet. If they realized he wasn't Kazuo…

Lung might spare him; hurt him badly, but still spare him. Black Kaze was a coin flip; if he could put up a good fight she might let him go. But Oni Lee killed. Oni Lee always killed. He did it simply, without fuss or even cruelty, just because it was easier to finish someone off than to leave them alive. If Lee knew Neil was there, Neil was dead.

Gradually, he was left as the rearmost member of the group. As soon as Oni Lee got far enough away, Neil would slip off down an alley and disappear. He'd dismiss tonight as a bad go and try again later.

There was a promising alley up ahead. He'd passed it during his scouting trip earlier. There were lots of little alcoves and niches to hide in.

"Hurry the fuck up Kaz." Dai snapped at him. "You wanna die? Lee hates it when people slow him down."

Dai turned back to the group. The only warning Neil had was the faint hiss of air. He ducked aside out of pure instinct. Something struck Dai in the back, and he crumpled with a strangled cry.

The other gang members turned at the noise, and Neil took his chance. He'd distract them, then run for it.

He pointed at Han.

"What the _fuck_ did you do to Dai!?"

The others immediately rounded on Han. No one was looking at Neil. They were all shouting at Han. Neil flexed, letting his transformation build. The seams of Kazuo's clothes ripped as Neil's body expanded.

"Han's gone crazy!" He yelled. "Get him!"

He bull-rushed into the group of thugs with devastating force. Some of them actually flew into the air as he charged. The ABBs were confused, scattering around the alley, and Neil laid into them with his fists before they could react.

"We're under attack! It's the Empire!" He shouted. He wanted to laugh. The gang members were in utter disarray. He'd already clobbered half their number before any of them realized what he was doing.

"That's not Kaz!" Takeshi bellowed. "Fuck him up!"

The remaining ABB were drawing weapons, but he didn't give them the chance. When he hit someone, he put them down. Every blow of his massive fists cracked heads or broke bones. Now and then, another missile would fly out of the darkness and strike a gang member. A few came dangerously close to him.

He tossed Takeshi into Ji Woo, and then grabbed Han. He used the weedy little goon as a shield as more ABB came at him. There was a flash of light on steel, and Neil dodged, throwing Han behind him.

Oni Lee's mask was a spot of red in the darkness; the only color the cape wore. Han was impaled on one of his long knives. With a flick, Lee discarded Han's body. Another Lee walked out of a side alley. Then another from behind the first.

Neil groaned inwardly. He was fucked now.

Oni Lee glanced around at few ABB still conscious and then dissolved into ash. Neil dived blindly to the side. Another Lee swung at where he'd been standing. Neil scrambled for the narrow alley up ahead. Lee wouldn't be able to get behind him there.

He almost made it. He blinked, and there was an Oni Lee standing in front of him. The Lee pulled something off his vest. Neil kept moving and hit the Lee with a two-footed dropkick. The clone sailed backwards and Neil rolled into the alley.

There was a roar of heat and light, and a giant hand bowled him over. His head cracked painfully against one of the walls, and he fell hard. Bursts of light sailed across his vision, and he fought to keep from blacking out. His TK gave him enough grip on the stones that he could pull himself along without moving. He slowly inch-wormed away from the mouth of the alley.

A pair of boots appeared in front of him. Neil looked up in horror. Oni Lee stood blocking the alley. Neil looked behind him. There was another Lee there too.

"Oh fuck." Neil whispered. "Oh _fuck_."

He dragged himself upwards, using his TK more than his arms. All his muscle was nothing more than dead weight when his body wouldn't respond.

The first Lee stepped forward, raising a knife.

" _I'm gonna take you by surprise and make you realize~_ "

They both froze. It took Neil's mind long seconds to process what he heard. His phone was going off. And it was Amanda's ringtone. Cheesy as hell, but it was hers. Lee started forward, and Neil held up his hands, frantically waving at Lee to stop.

"Please wait! Please!"

Lee kept coming.

"It's important that I answer this!" Neil pleaded. "It's important! _She's_ important."

Oni Lee hesitated.

"You are speaking to your woman?"

"Yes! We- we've got our first date tomorrow!" Neil couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Oni Lee cocked his head at Neil. He almost seemed to be weighing the options. The ringtone played on, backgrounding their conversation with electric guitar.

"Lung would allow it." Lee said slowly. "Black Kaze would allow it as well."

"You mean-" Neil blurted.

"Yes. I believe it is what they would allow you, so I will allow it as well. Answering that phone will serve as your last words."

It felt like someone had kicked Neil in the gut. _Last words_. Lee was really going to do it.

"Answer." Lee said.

Neil opened his phone with numb fingers.

"Hello?" Amanda's voice came through like something from another world. Something far off from the bloody, stinking alley.

"A-Amanda." Neil gasped.

"I thought you'd never pick up!" Amanda said laughing. "Are we still on for tomorrow? I thought we could get pizza at Marcone's."

 _Oh Jesus._

"I- I'm going to have to reschedule. Some stuff came up at work."

"Oh. That's- that's really disappointing." Amanda said. "Is there a time that'd work better for you?"

Neil swallowed the lump in his throat. "I don't know. I'll have to find out."

Oni Lee was stock-still. Not fidgeting or moving. Just watching him talk. It was unnerving.

"Okay. Bye Neil."

 _I love you_.

The words burned on his lips, but he refused to say them. He couldn't tell her that. Not now.

"Goodbye Amanda."

Silence.

"You're done?" Oni Lee said.

Neil nodded. He clenched his fists. He was going to go out fighting. If he turned to the side, he could watch both of them at once. He kept the Lee he'd talked to on his left, the other to his right. It wouldn't protect him if they used their suicide vests though.

Something hissed through the air and the Lee to his right vanished in a puff of ash. The remaining Lee darted away from Neil, looking up at the rooftops for his attacker.

Neil ran for it. He pumped every bit of power he could get into his legs. They screamed with agony, the muscles writhing under his skin, but he forced himself through the pain. His strides lengthened, growing until he wasn't so much running as he was bounding down the alley, leaving Lee behind him.

He turned a corner and ran straight into a Lee. The man raised a knife, but Neil shoulder-checked him into a wall. The Lee puffed into ash, but more were appearing. Neil ran on, forcing his lungs to be deeper, his heart stronger.

More Lees came at him, dropping at him from above or stepping into his path. He hit each one like a freight train, grinding them into the concrete without breaking his stride.

Left. Right. Right.

He took the alleyways at random, trying to shake the endless parade of Lees still coming at him.

Right. Straight. Left.

A dead end.

 _Oh shit._

Neil turned to backtrack, but Oni Lee was already standing in the mouth of the alley. Neil braced himself, preparing for Lee to charge, but the supervillain stayed where he was. Moving with deliberate, sadistic slowness, Lee pulled one of the cylindrical grenades off his belt.

Neil screamed the first thing that came to mind.

"Behind you!"

Lee looked. It was for the briefest instant, only a twitch of his demon mask to the side, but Neil took his chances. He threw himself at Lee, grabbing wildly for the grenade. Another Lee appeared, slashing at Neil from behind with a knife. The blade scored into his back and Neil cried out. He struck out at the new Lee, still trying to keep his hands on the first.

The second Lee slashed at him again. Neil gathered bone under his skin into iron-hard plates. Lee's knife cut into his arm, but glanced off the bone. Neil used the opening to slam the second Lee into the first, dissolving them both into ash.

He looked around wildly, looking for his next attacker, but no more Lees appeared. Neil rushed out of the alley, eating up the ground with long strides. As he ran, he focused on repairing his body; fixing the damage he'd done to his legs and closing where Oni Lee had cut him. Running got easier as he refined the transformations in his legs, his steps becoming smoother and faster, the motions less tiring.

Fixing himself made an excellent distraction from just how close he'd just come to dying. Neil skidded to a halt, five blocks away from where he'd fought Lee. What the hell had all that been about? It was supposed to just be a routine replace-and-switch like he'd done countless times. When a cape showed up, he'd slip off, leaving the gang in disarray. But tonight, someone else had been there. Someone had been shooting at the-

 _Oh_.

Everything clicked together.

"Shadow Stalker, get out here!" He shouted.

"What's up Browbeat?" Shadow Stalker said from directly behind him.

Neil thought his heart would explode.

" _Christ_ , Stalker!" He clutched at his chest. "Make some noise or something!"

Shadow Stalker's laughter was muffled by her mask. After a moment, Neil steadied himself, facing the heroine.

"You were there tonight." He said. "Against the ABB."

"Yep."

"You blew my cover." He stepped forward, towering over her. "I almost died because of you."

Shadow Stalker didn't back down. "I didn't know it was you at first. And anyway, I stopped Lee from killing you a bunch of times. Who do you think got rid of him so you could run for it?"

"You let him stand there with a knife to my throat while I made an entire phone call. What the fuck, Stalker? Where were you then?"

Shadow Stalker met his eyes; the intensity of her gaze made him take a step back.

"I was there. You made _Oni Lee_ to hold off murdering you so you could answer your phone!"

"And?"

"And that's pretty fucking impressive, Browbeat." Her eyes were wide behind her mask.

"He was going to kill me and you just watched because you thought it was cool?" Neil snapped.

"No. I watched because I wanted to see what you'd do. He had you dead to rights and you were still going to go down swinging. That takes guts. You're _strong._ "

"That's my power, Stalker."

Shadow Stalker snorted derisively, her breath misting in the cold air. "Not that kind of strong. Strong because you didn't give up."

She stepped closer to him; uncomfortably close. "I think I get it though. Your power, I mean."

Neil raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah." Her voice dropped, becoming conspiratorial. "Helps you feel safe, doesn't it?"

It did. Neil hadn't been seriously hurt since he triggered. He wasn't as unstoppable as Aegis or Assault, but he was pretty damn tough. But he didn't see what Shadow Stalker was getting at.

Shadow Stalker continued talking. "You feel safe because of your powers. Because no one can hurt you." Her voice sank to a whisper. "Not anymore."

"I… I don't follow." Neil said. He'd triggered in a boating accident. Did she think he had some weird boat-phobia or something?

"Don't be so fucking dense." She stepped even closer. They were almost touching now. "The other Wards don't get it. They don't get you. But they don't know what it's like. They wouldn't understand why you come out here alone."

"To fight crime?" Neil supplied.

"To prove yourself." Shadow Stalker said. "I saw you tonight and I knew right away. You need it. You have to come out here because you're a predator. It's natural for you."

"I don't-"

Shadow Stalker cut him off. "You do. Be honest Neil, where do you feel more alive? Out here, beating the shit out of people, or wasting your time with that girl?" He tried to speak but she cut him off again. "She's prey. She won't ever understand. You're strong, Neil. A predator. Like me."

Slowly, almost shyly, she ran a finger along the rip in his shirt where Lee had cut him. "Why don't you stop lying to yourself and cut loose? You _like_ being out here because it lets you show your strength. No rules, no laws, no fucking Protectorate. Only law out here is the law of the jungle. So how bout it? You and me, Browbeat. Two predators."

Neil pushed Shadow Stalker's hand away from him and stepped back.

"No." He said firmly. "That's all you. Strong or predators or whatever, that's not me. I don't care about that."

She made to speak, but this time he interrupted her.

"Listen. I don't know what your deal is, but all I want right now is to go home and change my fucking pants, because I'm pretty sure I pissed myself when Oni Lee pulled a fucking _grenade_. Thanks for getting me into that, by the way. You do your little urban hunter thing, but I don't want any part of it."

Neil turned his back on her and walked away. Shadow Stalker stayed where she was, standing alone in the cold night.

Only when he was out of sight did Sophia react.

"God fucking dammit!" She drove her fist into the wall of the alley.

What the fuck was his problem? Why couldn't he be honest!? The one fucking Ward who was actually a predator was too much of a pussy to admit it!

Dammit. God. Dammit. Now she was stuck for sure on a team of nothing but fucking prey and sheep. Finding Browbeat had been a stroke of incredible fortune. 'Finally, someone who didn't fuck around,' she'd thought.

Nope.

Just another goddamn prey. Not weak in body, but mind. Fucking prey mentality. He was scared of what it meant. Of what he could have. Could _take_.

Sophia cursed some more and kicked a few trash cans, but her anger burnt itself out quickly, replaced with frustration.

Maybe Emma would understand what had gone wrong. Why Browbeat had refused her. Maybe she could have said something different. Two predators should be able to work together. Strong and strong; like meeting like. Them against all the fucking prey of the world. It was right. The natural fucking order of things.

There were days where she felt like the only sane person in the whole goddamn world.


	9. 1-9

1.9

I almost didn't recognize him.

For a few seconds, I was sure that I was in the wrong room, because the man in the hospital bed wasn't my Dad. He looked like Dad, but he wasn't. My Dad was younger, healthier, stronger than this stranger. Dad didn't have all that gray hair, and he didn't have that many lines on his face.

The longer I stared, the more details I recognized on the stranger's face. A scar that bisected his left eyebrow from when he'd tried to fix the water heater. Smile lines etched deep around his mouth. The permanent freckle he had under one eye.

The final piece of the puzzle was the line across his forehead. It was like a warning sign; when he got mad, it appeared. I saw that single line and everything fell into place.

"Oh Dad... What happened?" I whispered.

Kurt and Lacey rushed through me to be at his bedside. I stayed where I was. I wanted to go closer, but my legs weren't listening.

Seeing him- understanding that _my_ _Dad_ _was in the hospital_ knocked the wind out of me. It was like I'd gotten sucker punched by my own feelings. Not just the guilt and shame I felt for not being there for him, but also _fear_.

Hospitals had always made me feel that fear. Even if it was just visiting one of Dad's friends or coworkers, I ended up standing in the back, too nervous to talk to anyone. They weren't pleasant places to begin with, but what really bothered me about them was that I knew people died in hospitals. If someone went to the hospital, they could die.

It was a child's logic, but it still got to me.

If Dad was in the hospital, he could die. And seeing him there, asleep in the hospital bed, he seemed fragile; not only more vulnerable than before, but more _mortal_.

Dad might die. Not in the 'everyone dies eventually' way, but possibly here and now.

Slowly, I moved to stand beside Kurt and Lacey. Lacey had her arms wrapped around herself, like she didn't know what to do with them.

"Oh Dan," she whispered. "Oh Dan, how could you?"

Kurt reached out to her and pulled her to his side. "It'll be okay. He'll be okay, Lace."

Lacey's expression said that she didn't believe him. She was about to reply when the door opened.

A man entered. He was sort of reedy, with a thin beard and a labcoat. His nametag read 'McCormick.' He was younger than I'd expected a doctor to be, probably no more than his late 20s.

Kurt and Lacey turned toward him, but stayed close to the bed.

"Hi, I'm Dr. McCormick." He said, smiling. "You are…?"

"Friends of his." Kurt said.

"Is Dan going to be okay?" Lacey cut in.

McCormick grew sober. He flipped through some of the pages on his clipboard, while looking at Dad's chart.

"Mr. Hebert is stable at the moment. The paramedics on the scene were able to get him breathing and pump the water out of his lungs. We've got him on an antibiotic regimen in case pneumonia develops, but if we're lucky, Panacea will drop by to see him tonight."

"Panacea might come?" Kurt said, his eyes widening.

McCormick gave a small shrug. "Possibly. She's extremely busy, but today is one of the days she comes to our hospital. If she doesn't, we've got Mr. Hebert scheduled for an MRI tomorrow morning."

"Why?" Lacey said.

"According to the paramedics, he was underwater for several minutes. It's very possible that he'll have some degree of brain damage."

My knees hit the floor.

Dad. With brain damage. He could live through this, but mentally? The man who was my father might be gone forever; dead in all but name.

Kurt swallowed heavily before he spoke. "Do you… do you know any more? Will he wake up at least?"

"I can't say." McCormick said. "We won't know until we get him in for an MRI. If you'd like to stick around for a while, I could see if Panacea will diagnose him. She'll probably be able to tell you."

What right did he have to be so calm when Dad might be dying? Smug bastard. He probably didn't even know Dad's name until he checked the chart.

"There's a lounge on down the hall if you'd like to wait." McCormick said. "I'll call you if anything changes."

Kurt nodded. "Alright. Lace, you want to stay, or you want to go down there?"

Lacey looked between Kurt and Dad before sniffling quietly. "Let's go wait. I- if- seeing him like this is too…" She sniffed harder.

More than ever, I wished I could give her a hug. She felt the same way I did. She knew just how much trouble Dad was in.

McCormick escorted Kurt and Lacey out of the room. As the door swung closed, I saw Kurt looking back at Dad, his expression grim.

There was a chair sitting in the corner. I called Allfather into being. He felt too big for the room; out of place in somewhere as prosaic as the hospital.

"Can you move that, please?" I said.

"Taylor, are you alright?"

I didn't answer. I just looked meaningfully at the chair. Allfather seemed to understand after a moment. He dragged the chair to Dad's bedside.

"I'm here if you need me." He said.

"I know. I have to do this on my own."

I let him vanish, leaving me alone with Dad.

Dad hadn't stirred so far. Not for Kurt and Lacey, and not even for Allfather moving furniture. I didn't have any expectation of him hearing me. He was asleep, and I was some weird superpower ghost. We might as well have been on different continents.

I took the chair, pulling my knees to my chest and curling up on it. I needed to tell Dad some things. Just in case I never got the chance to tell him for real.

"Two years ago, Emma and I stopped being friends."

Something constricted inside me, but I kept going.

"She'd made friends with a girl named Sophia, and she… I don't know what happened to her. She changed."

There was more to it than that. Emma had- and it still hurt me to think of it; Emma had betrayed me. Sold me out to her new best friend for fun. Every secret told in confidence, all my hopes and dreams, every last scrap of our friendship had just been more ammunition for her little crusade.

And the worst part- the absolute worst part of it was that some small part of me still held out hope that Emma would be my friend again. That she'd change her tune, apologize for all the things she'd done and all would be right with the world.

"… but I can't feel that way anymore." I told Dad. The room was quiet, with only my words to carry over the sound of Dad's heart monitor. I took a deep breath, balling my hands up in my shirt.

"Because Emma put me in the locker. She and Sophia and Madison did. As a joke! They put me in that fu-" I took a deep breath, forcing myself not to shout.

"I don't- I can't tell you what it was like in there."

I didn't have the words to tell Dad what the locker was like. I could tell him that "they laughed," but it didn't do it justice. Two simple words couldn't describe what it was like to know that someone- to know that your _friend_ wanted to hurt you. That she thought it was funny to hurt you. How the sound ringing in my ears when I woke wasn't the sound of things festering in the locker, but Emma's high, mocking laughter.

It was a long while before I could talk to Dad again. I forced myself to go on. I'd spent so long not talking to him, and here was the end result. I was dead, and he might be as well.

"How long was I in there?" I asked. "It seemed like… it seemed like days. They told you about it, right?"

The rhythmic _beep-beep_ of the heart monitor was my only answer.

"They didn't care." I said softly. "No one cared enough to let me out. Not a single person cared if I died in there."

 _Beep-beep_.

"But… I'm back now." One of Dad's hands was resting atop the covers. I reached for it without thinking. My fingers passed through his, but I kept my hand there, trying to remember how he felt.

"I'm back now, and I'm going to help you. I'll help you get better, and then I'll deal with the trio."

 _Beep-beep_.

My words faded into the room's quiet. Dad's chest slowly rose and fell, his breath rasping in his throat.

Even asleep, he looked weary. It was a familiar expression. One I'd seen in my own face, day in-day out, for months. And before that, we'd both worn it when Mom died.

It was so familiar to me at this point that I could see clearly what had happened. My death had been the final straw for Dad. He'd broken, just like I had broken. Just given up on everything. There was no way for me to survive the locker. Even if I'd lived through it, there would have been no way to keep going.

I knew exactly how he felt. Knew exactly how bad he must have been hurting to do what he did.

"Dad… I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

Sorry wasn't good enough. If I'd just done something different; done _better-_ Dad might not be here.

"This is all my fault, Dad."

There was nothing I could do to help him. So I sat, holding his hand as best I could, and waited for Panacea. 


	10. 1-10

1.10

Amy entered Room 303 at a trot. There were three more rooms to hit on this floor, and then she could go home. She was exhausted. Too exhausted to manage her normal guilt trip about healing.

The Protectorate had called her in for- how many Merchants had it been- 20? 30? Something about them getting caught up in a parahuman fight. She still wasn't sure what had happened there. The PRT had captured Squealer and Mush though, and she'd personally confirmed Skidmark's death.

It wasn't something she'd admit to anyone- one of a long line of such things, but she was pretty damn glad that Skidmark had finally died. The city was literally a better place without him around. With luck, the Merchants would dissolve now. Another gang would move in on their turf, but the Merchants would still be gone. She wouldn't have to heal any more elementary school kids who overdosed, or fix girls that the Merchants had gotten hooked and sold for sex.

It was a small, ugly consolation, but it gave her the boost she needed to keep going.

The man in 303 was thin, middle-aged, wearing a breathing mask. He was asleep when she came in. That was a problem. He couldn't consent if he was asleep. She checked his chart.

Possible Attempted Suicide- Drowning. Submerged for some time, likely brain damage and damage to lungs from water inhalation. Unconscious since he came in. Next of kin was listed. She'd have to talk to the doctor about consent then.

The door shut behind her.

Amy turned to look out of reflex.

A man was standing in front of the door. He wore a full suit of armor, covering every inch of skin under thick plates.

Amy tried to scream, but the man moved like lightning. He caught her wrist and locked his hand over her mouth. Her scream came out as a muffled whimper.

"Easy, girl. I mean you no harm." The man said, his voice calm. Amy groped blindly for her phone, trying to hit the combination of keys that would activate her silent alarm. Victoria could be there to save her in a matter of minutes.

"I said, _easy_." The man grabbed her other hand, holding both of hers with one massive gauntlet.

He pulled her away from the door. Amy struggled harder, trying to get away. Her breaths came out short and ragged, hissing between his fingers. The man finally tired of her struggling and shoved her into a chair.

He leaned in, his face only inches from hers. A single, ice-blue eye stared at her through the slit in his visor.

"I am not going to hurt you. I just want to _talk_." His voice was still calm, but firm. "I am going to take my hand away, and you're not going to scream. Okay?"

Amy nodded frantically. The man pulled his hand away. She immediately tried to scream. Someone would hear her. Someone had to hear her. His gloved hand clamped over her mouth like a vice.

"Maybe we have different definitions of what screaming is." He said, a note of laughter in his voice. "Let me rephrase it. My name is Allfather. Do you know who I am?"

Allfather? That was impossible. Allfather had led the Empire before Kaiser, but he'd died years ago. He'd been one of the old-school villains that fought Marquis and the Teeth. Carol had mentioned him occasionally; called him 'a Nazi psychopath.'

She fell silent. Allfather nodded knowingly. "I see that you do. I give you my word that I will not harm you. I _swear_ that I just want to talk to you."

Without waiting for her to acknowledge him, Allfather let go of her and backed away. Amy stayed where she was. She let one hand stray to her pocket, but kept her eyes locked on the supervillain.

Allfather turned his head, looking at an empty chair by the bed.

"What do you mean, 'I didn't have to grab her?'" He said.

Was he using a communicator? She took advantage of his distraction to get her hand on her phone.

"…Oh. I believe I misunderstood you." Allfather said. He sounded embarrassed. "My apologies, Panacea." He gestured at the empty chair. "My associate and I had a miscommunication."

Amy stared at him. "Y-your associate?" She said.

"Yes. I'm very fortunate to work alongside her. Isn't that right Ta... Toten… uh- er... Empress. My partner, Empress."

He hesitated for a moment, still staring at the chair. "What do you mean you don't like it? I can't very well call you by your real name, can I?"

Allfather turned back to Amy, his composure ruffled. "She's invisible. Like a ghost."

Amy nodded slowly. Right. Allfather was completely and totally insane. She started surreptitiously dialing the number for her alarm.

"Empress asked me to speak to you about this patient." Allfather continued. "It is _vitally_ important that this man not die. Will you take a look at him?"

She looked at him incredulously. "I was _going to_. If you hadn't grabbed me, he'd already be healed."

Allfather sagged. "You don't have to agree with her." He said to the chair.

"I'm going to heal him now." She moved toward the bed before Allfather could disagree. The sooner she fixed him, the sooner she could get the hell out of here.

It took only a single finger pressed to the patient's hand for her to feel him.

Three cracked ribs, a broken collarbone, bruising on the chest and mouth. That was probably from the CPR. Damage to both lungs, lowered oxygen levels in the blood. Some hemolysis from water inhalation.

She repaired each injury as she found it and moved on. The hemolysis was the worst. She fixed it, and repaired the damage it had caused to his heart. Allfather was silent as she worked.

Decreased brain function caused by hypoxia. Loss of functionality and working tissue in around 15% of the brain. Lowered oxygen levels in blood flow to the brain.

That… that was all bad. She couldn't fix his brain. She stimulated higher oxygen intake to correct the levels in his blood, but that was all she could do for his brain.

"Done." Amy said. She straightened up, stretching her stiff back.

"He's going to be alright?" Allfather said.

"I fixed all that I could."

"Meaning…" Allfather said.

"Meaning that I fixed his body. I can't do anything for his brain."

Allfather glanced at the chair. "She wants to know if he'll wake up."

There was an awful sinking feeling in Amy's stomach. She knew it very well. It happened every time; people always reacted the same way.

"I- … No, I don't think he will."

He went very still. He was still looking at the chair.

"I'm very sorry, but I have to go." Amy said. She rushed to the door, but Allfather caught her arm.

"Hold it." He pulled her back to the bed. "She wants you to try."

Amy shook her head. "I _can't_. I don't do brains."

"Can't, or won't?" Allfather said. "I don't see what makes the brain so different."

She couldn't. It was one of her rules. One of the lines she could never cross. Not for anything. She didn't trust herself to do it. Someone as loathsome as her couldn't have that kind of control over other people.

"I can't!" She shouted.

"Keep it down." Allfather growled. He looked to the chair. "I should… No, you can't. You can't offer her that kind of deal. She'll blow the whole thing wide open."

Allfather continued having a conversation with someone that wasn't there. Amy reached for her phone again. It was awkward; Allfather had her so she had to reach across with her opposite hand.

"Yes, I understand that but- no, I don't think you're going to do that. Not if you don't want-" He flinched suddenly. "Don't scream like that. I keep thinking they'll hear you."

Amy managed to get her fingers around her phone before Allfather spoke again.

"I- _fine_. I understand. He's important to you, and I would do the same."

Amy stumbled as Allfather let go of her, falling onto the bed.

"Panacea, Empress would like to offer you a deal."

"I don't make deals with Nazis." Amy snapped.

Allfather ignored her. "In exchange for you healing Mr. Hebert here, Empress will resurrect one dead parahuman of your choice."

 _What_. _Seriously. WHAT_.

"What?" Amy gaped at him.

"It's exactly how it sounds. I'm only speaking to you because of her ability. Show her Skidmark."

A man appeared from nowhere. He was filthy, his clothes ragged and unwashed. The only indicators that he was a parahuman was his cape and mask. Both of which appeared to be made out of old t-shirts. Amy recognized him. She'd just seen his body that morning.

"Holy shit, it's really Skidmark." She whispered.

"It's about goddamn time that someone was fucking glad to see me." Skidmark crossed his arms. "Not a single one of you dick-shitting cocksluts has any appreciation for just how fucking important I-"

Skidmar vanished.

"Thank you." Allfather said to the chair. Amy took a moment to recalibrate. A dead man had just appeared from nowhere. So…

"There's really a person sitting in that chair?" She said to Allfather. He nodded.

"Oh yes. We're going to be making a lot of changes in this city." She could hear the smile in his voice. "Now, Panacea, there must be a parahuman out there that you'd like to see again."

She stared at him blankly. He'd put her on the spot, and she had no answer.

"Empress tells me you're part of New Wave. I think a couple of your members were around when I was. Maybe they'd like to meet someone? Or maybe one of them has passed away since then?"

The magnitude of what Allfather was proposing hit her. She could see Fleur, or Shooting Star or… _Good God_ did she know a lot of dead capes. Their names came easily. She knew them by heart by now. Each and every one made their appearance any time she had a nightmare. That was something she'd never told anyone but Victoria.

Diamond Dog, who'd died of pancreatic cancer two weeks before she got her powers. Fleur, murdered in her own home by E88 thugs. Lightstar, who'd lost hope when Fleur died and did a suicide run against Behemoth. Versailles, who'd died in her arms after she couldn't heal his brain aneurysm. Hominem, shot to death by a mugger. Lachesis, killed by…

Amy shook her head, banishing the parade of dead heroes back to her memories.

She could see one of them again.

And all she would have to do would be to compromise her rule. But… it could be for more than just her. What would Carol say if she could see Fleur? Mark could see his brother again. Would they finally accept her if she made that sacrifice for them? Would they understand if she told them?

…how would they react if she said no? That she'd denied them a chance to see their family again out of her own selfishness. What if she was just getting scammed? It wouldn't be the first time that someone had tried to bilk her into healing someone.

"I… I need some time to think about this." She said.

"That's not an option-" Allfather paused. "She… Empress accepts, but also hopes that you make your decision quickly. The offer will stand until you make your choice."

Slowly, Amy stepped away from Allfather and toward the door. He made no move to stop her. Her steps quickened until she slammed the door behind her and ran pell-mell down the hallway.

Patients and staff looked at her as she ran, but she kept going. She burst into the stairwell and then pounded up the stairs. Her panic had turned into disgust at some point. How could she be so selfish to deny Carol and Mark this opportunity? All for her stupid rules. The ones that only existed because she was an awful, pitiful excuse for a person. Too disgusting to even do good without rules to guide her. So weak that she had to be bribed into healing someone by a fucking Nazi.

The roof was deserted. She went up there to smoke sometimes, but now she only dialed furiously for Victoria, mashing the keys with her clumsy fingers.

"Hey, Ames, you ready to-"

"Pick me up!" She yelled into the phone. "Get me out of here!"

Amy fell to her knees. The concrete was ice-cold, but she stayed there, staring into the sky for the one person in the world who actually cared about her.

And when Victoria finally came, Amy didn't say a word about the deal.

I slumped in my chair, exhausted in mind and body.

"Notice how she didn't argue too hard about not healing your father. She can do it." Allfather said. He was leaning against the wall beside me.

"Yeah. You think she'll take the offer?" I said.

"I have hope." Allfather said. "God will provide."

I snorted quietly, but kept my words to myself. God had sent us a healer who wouldn't heal.

"I could always just kill her." He said matter-of-factly. "She'd likely be more agreeable as a ghost."

"What the fuck, Allfather?" I gave him a flat stare. "That's _Panacea_. She's a hero. A real hero. It's not the same thing as hunting down Shadow Stalker."

He made a noise like "hmm."

"I don't think she'll be back any time soon." I said. "If she takes too long, we'll go to her house. To talk."

We lapsed into thoughtful silence. Allfather's suggestion was an option, but I wasn't going to take it any time soon. I _would_ get Dad back to normal, but I sure as hell wasn't going to go around murdering heroes to do it. If Panacea wouldn't come around, I'd find some other way.

"It is a terrible thing, to see a parent like this." Allfather said suddenly. "How are you feeling?"

I squirmed on the chair. "I… I just need some time. I feel a lot better now that I've had a chance to talk to him. For what that's worth. We'll still take care of your Empire stuff, but I need some time to- for all of _this_." I waved at the hospital room. "I'm not going to let him die like this. Dad'll wake up. I'll make sure of it."

He put a hand on my shoulder. Physical contact was so unfamiliar to me that I almost fell out of the chair with surprise.

"Take all the time that you need, Taylor."

I looked at Dad. He looked like I felt. Tired and frail. Stretched thin.

"Yeah." I turned to Allfather. "By the way, I'm still mad about the Empress thing. That's the Nazi-est name you've used so far. I am not calling myself that."

He shrugged. "It just slipped out."

"Panacea thinks I'm a Nazi now."

"Good." He held up a hand at the look on my face. "Better for two Empire capes to take an interest in your father than for people to know who you really are."

"I-…" _Fuck._ He had a point there. "We're still not using Empress."

"Don't rule it out. It may be a useful alias. For now… how about… Baroness?"

"I'm a teenage girl, not the She-Wolf of the SS."

Allfather laughed. "Seele. German for 'soul.'"

"That's kind of pretty." I said. "Maybe."

"I'm getting closer. How about…"

Allfather kept suggesting names, and I kept refusing them. He didn't seem to mind though. We ended up talking for hours, laughing and joking with each other across Dad's bed. I knew that he was just trying to make me feel better, but it worked. There were two people in the world that I could talk to at the moment, and I was glad that one of them was him.

It was only when I woke in the morning that I realized I'd fallen asleep. Allfather was gone; he'd returned to my power while I slept. I stood and stretched, aching from having spent the night in the uncomfortable hospital chair.

"Please wake up." I whispered to Dad. I tried to hold his hand again and failed.

One of the nurses bustled in to look him over and I made my exit. I'd be back to see him later. I'd said I'd needed time, and Allfather had given it to me. I still hurt inside; still wanted to break down screaming, but I was calm enough now to hold it back while I attended to other things.

I had contracts to fulfill.

Or more immediately… I looked upward, staring at a patch of ceiling. Not there, but on the floor above. I could feel the connection. It was faint. Not the beacon that Skidmark had been, but not as faint as Allfather.

There were ghosts in the hospital.

SPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAK 

Haha, I know nothing about medical science. Just consider Amy's bioscan to be a whole lot of technobabble.


	11. 1-11

1.11

I drifted through the halls of Brockton Bay General. Walking through the walls made me uncomfortable. It was just too alien to get used to, so I kept to the mundane routes. Finding ghosts was a little like playing hot-and-cold. At a fork in the hallway, I'd walk one way and see how the signal changed. If it got stronger, I kept going.

It wasn't the etheric song that had signaled Skidmark. This signal was more like having someone talk to you from across the house. I had a vague idea of where they were, but it wasn't strong enough to pull me along like Skidmark's had. I could have found him with my eyes closed.

The hospital was quiet, as hospitals went. There were always nurses and doctors around, but it still held the calm that early mornings brought. I got a laugh out of walking around as a ghost. Hospitals were supposed to be big and scary, and now there was an actual ghost in BB General. Well, not an _actual_ ghost, but close enough.

The song grew stronger as I searched. I'd only gotten a few hours of sleep, but the closer I got, the faster I moved. I wanted to find the ghost. I was excited to find them. It was an odd thing to get excited about, but I was.

Part of it was novelty. I was using my _superpowers_. Also, I was a little lonely. I'd made a friend with Allfather, but Skidmark was pretty dickish. A new ghost would be someone to talk to. If nothing else, it'd be one more person who could see me, but maybe if I was lucky, they'd be a friend too.

That… that was kind of sad. I was so lonely that I was literally running to find a new ghost because they would pay attention to me.

I ran through a maze of bland hospital hallways until I reached a set of double doors. A sign above the doors read 'Operating Room' in big letters. The song was loud enough to hear clearly now. The same inhumanly beautiful melody that reminded me of whale song.

I half-expected to walk in on a bunch of surgeons elbow-deep in a patient, but the OR was empty. Most of the lights were off, and the operating table sat halfway in shadow. The song led me to the table like a magnet to iron. This time I was ready for the pulse; the wave of my power released, filling the room with its gentle current.

Smoke and shadow gathered, forming a vaguely human shape. I took a step back and watched. After a few seconds, the smoke _sharpened_ , taking on depth and detail. As the last bit of shaping took place, color and texture spread across its surface like ink blots.

A man stood before me. He reminded me of a scarecrow; tall and lanky, with a mop of straw blond hair. I guessed that he was maybe 10 years older than I was. There was an oddness about him that I only put together after a moment. He was in street clothes. Not a costume. He'd either died out of uniform, or he hadn't had one.

"What… where am I?" The ghost said. He brushed a hand through his hair, looking at me in confusion.

"Nice to meet you." I said. "I'm-"

My power pulsed again. Another wave swept through the room, and I felt something _awaken_. What was-

 _The song_! The song hadn't faded when I manifested the man. There was another ghost in here!

Once more, smoke and shadow drifted from nowhere; coalescing and shifting until a third person stood in the room with me.

The ghost was a girl, wearing a hooded cape over a white dress shirt and a blue miniskirt. Her costume looked homemade, with lots of frills and ribbons added in odd places. She had on a domino mask, but it did little to conceal her face, and I thought she might be around my age. Her hair was in a cute pixie style, peeking out from under her hood. She looked Asian, or of Asian descent; possibly Japanese if I was going to guess. Not an uncommon sight in Brockton Bay.

She stared at me, and I at her. Then slowly, she looked down at her hands. There were spots of blood on her white gloves. Her fingers twitched, and she looked at them in disbelief. Before I could say or do anything else, the girl burst into tears, pulling her gloves off and throwing them away.

"Hey- What's going on here!?" The man said. The girl curled up against the operating table, still sobbing uncontrollably.

"I- fuck, hold on!" I told the man. _Shit._ What to do?

Allfather pulsed, and I called him forth. He appeared behind me, his hands on my shoulders.

"I'll talk to the man. You handle the girl." He said.

"Maybe you should…" I hesitated. I didn't want to deal with the girl. The way she was crying reminded me too much of me. It brought back ugly memories of Emma.

On the other hand… the girl appeared to be Asian, and Allfather had reacted to the last Asians he'd met by committing a hate crime.

"You take the guy." I said.

Allfather nodded and took the ghost aside. I crouched down beside the girl. She was still crying; huge tears seeping out from under her mask and soaking into her shirt.

"Hey. Are you uh- okay?" I said.

She gave no sign that she'd heard me. Her face was getting blotchy. I wondered if that was what I looked like when I cried. Had I looked that way when I was in the-

I banished that thought. I didn't need to think about the- about that place any more.

I tried a few more times to talk to the girl, but she kept crying. Just watching her made me uncomfortable. Finally, I stretched out a hand and absorbed her. Her essence joined the rest of the shards in my power. She felt raw; unrefined. Was it because I hadn't made a deal with her? It felt… _wrong_ to just hold onto her, but maybe she'd calm down with a little time.

I straightened up and turned to Allfather. He was standing with the first ghost, waiting for me.

"What was that about?" Allfather asked.

I shrugged. "Who's this?"

Allfather nudged the ghost forward. "Michael Paulson. Also known as 'Tybalt.'"

The ghost- Tybalt gave me a lopsided grin. "I- I didn't use that name a lot. I wasn't a superhero or anything." He ran his hand through his hair again. "My powers are pretty lame, so I didn't ever fight crime. Just call me Michael."

"What are your powers, Michael?" I said. It was stupid, but my first thought was 'please let him have come-back-to-life powers.' Hell, I'd settle for 'power to let people talk to ghosts.'

"I can make mammals understand me. I mostly just talked to dogs and cats."

 _Damn_.

Michael looked between me and Allfather. "He- uh, Allfather? He said that I'm a ghost, and you're here to grant wishes or something?"

I made a see-sawing motion with my hand. "Think of it more like a deal. You have something you want, and I help you get it."

"So could you- could I come back to life for real?"

Allfather twitched like an electric shock had just gone through him.

"I…" Both ghosts watched me intently. "I don't know. It might be possible, but I wouldn't count on it."

Personally, I had the feeling that dead was dead, and that was it. I'd never heard of any parahuman powers granting a true resurrection from death, and as bullshit as my powers seemed to be, I doubted they were _that_ bullshit.

"I'd pick a different wish, Michael, because I have no idea how I'd help you do that."

Michael sagged. "Oh." He stared at the ground before looking back to me. "What do people usually wish for?"

"I asked Empress to help me take revenge." Allfather said. He walked to my side, facing Michael.

 _Empress_? I was pretty sure I'd made it clear that I didn't want to use that name, but-

Allfather glanced at me. "Think of your father." He whispered.

Oh. Right. I still needed a secret identity. Even if I was basically untouchable, if people knew I was connected to Dad, they might go after him. I needed him safe. Allfather had played up like I was an Empire cape when we talked to Panacea. That was the kind of disconnect I needed. Nobody would connect shy loner Taylor Hebert with the mysterious supervillain Empress. If nothing else, I could use the identity until I thought of something better.

Also, I didn't like making myself vulnerable to a strange ghost. Could I afford to bare myself to someone who might hurt me? I had too many bad memories of Emma. I'd been more open with her than anyone. We'd been as close as sisters.

On the other hand, Michael was a ghost. One of my ghosts. I had control over him. Even if he wanted to blab my identity there was nothing stopping me from withdrawing him. Being open with him; being vulnerable was hard, but if I couldn't trust my ghosts, who could I trust?

I took a deep breath. He was my ghost. I was in control.

"Michael, I'm Taylor, it's nice to meet you. We're using Empress as my cape name right now." I gestured at Allfather. "This is Allfather. He's... my friend. I'm helping him with his deal."

Allfather rested his hand on my shoulder, giving me a reassuring squeeze.

"Think of this like a second chance, Michael." Allfather said. "You've got another shot at life. What do you want to do?"

The expression of polite bewilderment that Michael had worn so far faded, and he looked pensive. "I want… I want to see where I worked."

I blinked at him. That was a weird wish.

"I worked in an animal shelter." Michael said, seeming to read my expression. "I helped start it. It was my passion, my…" He motioned vaguely, searching for the words.

"Your life's work." Allfather supplied.

"Yes!" Michael said excitedly. "That's right. It was the one good thing- the one _real_ thing I accomplished with my life!"

He looked exhilarated by the topic, coming alive in ways he hadn't before.

"I- oh man. We spent _years_ getting it set up. All the work I put in with Meredith and Eliza. And the day it opened…" Michael stared into space, lost in his memories. After a few moments, he seemed to come back to himself.

"Best day of my life. Bar none." He trailed off, remembering again. When he spoke, his voice was suddenly sober. "I had a full year with them before I… The neighborhood wasn't good, and someone broke in to raid our medical supplies. I was there alone and I tried to stop them, but well…"

Michael smiled sadly. "I don't remember making to the hospital."

"That was 2006." He met my eyes; his were still far-off, cloudy with memory. "Allfather said it's been five years since then… Taylor- _Empress_ , for my wish, I want to go see my old animal shelter."

I tried to give him my best smile. He seemed like a good guy. A little spacey, but still nice. The way he'd talked about his shelter reminded me of how Dad sometimes spoke about the ferry. They both had these ambitious dreams, but when they talked about them, they made you believe it too. They made you hope for the future through the sheer earnest goodwill of what they wanted.

I could agree to this without any of the reservations I had about helping Allfather or Skidmark.

"Deal."

We shook hands. I had the brief sensation of his warm palm on mine before he faded, wisping away to nothing as my power absorbed him. His presence joined Skidmark and the girl-ghost's inside my well. Michael's crystal was sunny, radiating soft waves of understanding and kindness. I felt better just having him.

 _(condition set_ )

I turned to Allfather; still standing dutifully at my side.

"You think we can knock this out on the way?" I said.

Allfather offered me his hand.

"Lead on, Empress."

SPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAK

Manifesting Michael for the first time was draining, but I noticed that it was becoming less and less so each time I did it. Allfather's first manifestation had almost killed me, but Michael's only left me weak and shaky. Was my limit growing, or was I somehow becoming more efficient at it? It felt like the former; I wasn't sure how I would get more efficient at someone that was pretty much automatic.

I was still too unsteady to walk, so I ended up being carried by Allfather. Michael ran alongside, having trouble keeping up with Allfather's Brute speed. After a few blocks of Michael falling behind, I recalled him. I resummoned him every couple blocks to get directions. Even though the animal shelter had been built after Allfather's time, he still had a keen knowledge of the city's layout, and didn't need much of Michael's help finding the place.

It was getting close to morning, and having Allfather out in public made me anxious. He was pretty conspicuous, and he'd mentioned having a run-in with the Protectorate after I passed out with Skidmark. Panacea was in New Wave, but I'd put money on her contacting the Protectorate about our meeting in the hospital. That was… good, sort of.

It would add legitimacy to my cover story. We'd approached Panacea as Empire capes. I wanted that deception to go forward. We would be interested in Dad because he was white, not because he was my Dad. But still… the Nazi supervillain thing… How far was I willing to go to keep Dad safe?

"We're here." Allfather said, cutting into my thoughts.

He set me down, supporting me in case I was still wobbly.

I could see at once that the shelter was in a bad neighborhood. It was a sprawling one-story building, sitting between two abandoned factories, across from a row of rundown houses. There was a collage of gang tags on the front wall, and one of the windows had the spiderweb crack of a bullet hole in it.

The sign above the door read 'Noah's Bark.' In smaller letters under the name: 'A home for all our four-legged friends.'

The overall effect was not reassuring. Would Michael really want to see his shelter when it was this beat up? But as I stood thinking, Michael's shard pulsed wildly, and I called him forth.

"Michael, I'm sorry you have to see it like this." I said. He wasn't looking at me, just staring at the shelter. He must have been too horrified for words.

After a few long, awkward moments, he spoke.

"What are you sorry for? It's- God, it's still _open_!" He glanced back at me, his eyes wide.

"It's kind of…" I trailed off, unsure of how to describe the shelter politely.

"Taylor," Michael said. "What do I care how it looks? It's here."

Without waiting another second, he raced across the street to peer in the front door.

"They don't open for 5 hours!" Michael called back to us. He fished around in his pocket before triumphantly withdrawing a ring of keys.

"Still got em! I'm gonna go in the back." And then he was off again, running around the side of Noah's Bark like he'd just seen the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Allfather and I watched him go.

"What's the plan for you?" I asked Allfather.

A car passed and Allfather stepped into the shadows. He waited until it was out of sight before he answered.

"I'm going to make contact with the Empire and see who's still around that will support me." He rubbed thoughtfully at his helmet's chin. "You don't know a cape named 'Krieg' do you? He's an old friend of mine."

I searched my memories for what I knew about the Empire. Not a lot. I'd have to remedy that quickly. Going among them unaware would be incredibly stupid. As for Krieg…

"He's not a tall guy in a big coat with a skull mask, is he?" I asked. All the Empire capes tended to blend together in my head as a vague gestalt of pasty skin and swastikas.

Fortunately, Allfather nodded excitedly.

"That's him. If we're lucky, he still lives in the same house. We'll go see him and see about planning my duel with Kaiser."

I stared at him. "A duel?"

"How else would I challenge my son for leadership of the Empire 88?" He sounded honestly confused.

"I figured we'd just- I don't know. I could walk in through the wall and you could stab him or something."

Allfather actually laughed. "Taylor, we have to do this in public. The entire Empire needs to know the details of his betrayal. They'd never acknowledge me as the rightful leader if we murdered him like thieves in the night."

 _Fuck._ Selling a deception was one thing, but this was going to be big. Really big. For one, Allfather would have to explain how he came back to life, and then they'd all know about 'Empress.'

"How about this," Allfather said. "I can go see Krieg now while you wait for Michael. You could use the free time to talk to that Oriental ghost you found in the hospital."

That sounded like a pretty good idea. I nodded my assent. Allfather dashed down the block, leaving me with a stern warning not to summon Skidmark when I was alone.

Yeesh. His earnest, well-meaning racism was almost worse than his overt, frothing racism. I'd have to have a talk with him about that later.

As for the girl ghost... Her shard didn't feel like she was still upset, but I didn't think my ghosts were fully conscious when desummoned either. On the other hand, if she was still crying, I could just desummon her.

Manifesting the girl left me panting on the sidewalk; cold needling its way up my arms. It was like getting the aftermath of a long day all at once. But it was definitely getting easier. Doing two manifestations in succession would have been unthinkable a few days ago. My limits were growing.

"Are you alright?"

The girl was looking down at me, her eyes wide behind her domino mask. I made to pull myself to my feet and couldn't quite make it without the world spinning. Instead, I sat down on the cold sidewalk.

The girl stood awkwardly for a few moments before I motioned for her to sit down beside me. She knelt down, smoothing her skirt as she settled herself. The silence that followed was painful. As excited as I was to have another ghost, I still didn't know how to talk to them.

Finally, the girl turned to me. "That armored guy is kind of a jerk."

"Yup." I held out a hand. "Taylor."

Her bloodstained glove met my hand.

"Runechild."

SPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAK

I learned a lot of interesting things talking to Runechild. Most prominently was that I couldn't keep three ghosts out at once. I managed to talk to her for about a minute before the energy drain made me topple over onto the sidewalk.

It was almost an exponential increase in effort. One ghost was easy; I'd had Allfather out for hours before without any trouble. Having two out was tiring, but no more than walking briskly. I hadn't noticed a big strain when I kept Allfather and Skidmark out at the same time. But three? Three was like running a marathon with an anvil on my back. The drain was so bad my eyes were going cold before I managed to desummon Runechild.

I called Michael back as well. I had just enough power to safely keep Allfather out, and his mission was the most important.

And so, I ended up curled in the fetal position on the sidewalk in a bad neighborhood. It seemed like I did that a lot recently.

After a few boring, uncomfortable minutes lying on the ground, I risked resummoning Michael. He didn't look surprised to see me on the sidewalk; he'd probably seen it from within my power or something. I still wasn't sure how that worked.

"Taylor?" He said, crouching down beside me.

"I'm fine." I groaned. "How much more time do you need in the shelter?"

"Oh, I'm good to go." He said. "I talked to all the animals inside and they're being taken care of."

His expression darkened. "It'll be better if I don't see Eliza or Meredith. It'll just upset them."

I nodded. "It'd be like giving them false hope."

Michael smiled ruefully. "Yeah. So… what now? Is it like… Heaven or Hell or something?"

"We could start with you helping me up." I returned his smile.

I wasn't cold- I couldn't really feel mundane cold, but I'd had more than enough sidewalks for one lifetime. Michael reached out to help me. The instant his hand touched my shoulder, words echoed in my mind.

( _contract fulfilled_ )

We both froze.

"What was-" Michael gasped. He didn't have time for any more words. Starting with the hand touching me, all the color began leeching out of him. It was like watching him manifest in reverse. First the color, then the details left him. Where they faded, his skin and clothes turned dark and insubstantial.

He pulled away, but the change continued even when he wasn't touching me. In less than a minute, he went fully dark. Michael stood above me, his hand still outstretched. He looked like he was made of shadow. Smoke and shadow, with little wisps trailing off him when he moved. The only spot of color left in him were his eyes. His regular eyes had been a gentle green, but now they glowed. They burned out from his tenebrous face, peering steadily into my own.

There was something… _less_ about him now. It was like there was less humanity behind his eyes.

Should I resummon Allfather? What had happened to Michael?

"Are you- ahh!"

 _Reality_ hit me. It was like all the being and life that had left Michael came into me like a bombshell.

I _felt_.

I could feel my body- not as it was as a ghost, but as it had been. For an instant, my heart beat and the rush of blood filled my ears. I inhaled reflexively and knew instantly that what I'd been breathing as a ghost had been a lie. I'd breathed, but it had been only hollow action. This was the breath of _life._ I could _taste_ the air; taste the city's scent- its flavor, its life. The smell of car exhaust and trash in the alleys and spilled alcohol in the street and _good_ _god_ it was amazing.

My hands scraped against the concrete of the sidewalk and I cried out at the sheer feeling. It _hurt_. I hadn't felt pain- not real pain since I died, and it was exquisite. Not just pain, but the texture, the cold of the sidewalk, the wind on my skin like a caress. All of it was new- something almost forgotten as a ghost.

I felt it all and I screamed. Screamed because I was _alive_ and it was incredible and-

The sun went out.

I sat there on the sidewalk, tears rolling down my cheeks, and I was not alive. The waves of _feeling_ that had struck me faded as quickly as they had come, leaving me empty and numb. I was suddenly very aware of how _dead_ I felt as a ghost.

I barely noticed it when Michael picked me up. He didn't feel any different than before. It only reinforced that I was alone. That the only people who could touch me were my ghosts. I really needed a hug. I wanted more than anything for Dad to give me a hug, but he couldn't because-

Michael hugged me. I stared dumbly up at him.

"Michael?" I said. My voice was hoarse from screaming.

He didn't answer. Instead, he settled me in his arms, princess style.

That was… odd. What had brought that on?

My cheeks itched where my tears had fallen and-

Michael dried them with his sleeve.

What the fuck?

My despair was being replaced with confusion. What the hell had happened to Michael when we completed our deal? Why was he… whatever he was? On that note, what the hell had just happened to me? Had I just come back to life for a second?

Michael began walking briskly toward Allfather.

Wait. How did I know that? I could find Allfather through our connection, but Michael shouldn't be able to. Was he doing what I wanted?

I looked inwards, examining my power. The link I had to Allfather was there, but Michael's shard had changed. It was like it had… merged in some way. Become more _me_ and less him.

I looked closer at his shard. I could sense him more clearly than ever before. He wasn't just a presence in my power now; he was _part_ of my power!

Looking at his essence was almost as good as being alive. It was a work of art. Every infinitely beautiful, beautifully infinite facet of his crystal soul was open to me. The kind, gentle feeling that had radiated from him before was still there, but now it was directed at me. I could feel it; could know it now.

His shard was a part of me. We were one. I was _more_ because of it. I could feel that change now that I'd remembered what life felt like. It was just barely- only the tiniest little sliver more, but I was _more alive_.

I willed him to stop and he stopped.

"Holy-" I said.

"Shit." Michael finished.

"I can come back." We said.

SPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAK

Original AN:  
Sorry again for all the delays. This chapter ended up really long, but splitting into two didn't really work. The first chapter would have been the hospital scene, but it'd be a weak chapter because nothing much happens.

Tybalt/Michael had a fight scene planned where someone robs the shelter and he gets a second shot at saving it. Skidmark would have made a funny appearance involving his business knowledge, but I wanted to move things along so both of those got cut. I feel a little guilty about writing Tybalt in just to... ghost him? Whatever happened to him. Yeah, he was largely filler, but I'm trying to move the plot. Skidmark is definitely going to get the moment he didn't get here, because what I thought of was pretty funny.

Also, Runechild! One of Wildbow's earliest cape characters. She got upgraded to 'Magical Girl' after I couldn't think of anything interesting to do with her. Her conversation with Taylor got cut also, because goddamn this chapter has too much talking already. Her powers are going to be a little different than in canon, because I'm like 90% sure WB recycled her into Rune without realizing it. Think of her outfit as equals parts Sailor Moon and Sayaka from Madoka. Tragic entropy related backstory to come in future chapters.

Also also, Taylor finally fulfills a contract! A lot of you guessed it, but it's not very fun if I spoil my own story.

Tybalt- Thinker 2/Master 3: Has the ability to communicate with mammals. Doesn't assert any real control over them, but can usually get animals to do what he wants. Mostly used his powers to help the strays at his shelter. His lack of confidence in his ability lead him to never fight crime with it. His proudest moment was using his powers to track down one of the Empire's dog-fighting rings and notifying the PRT. He saved over 60 dogs that day.

Never figured out the real applications of his ability.

Updated AN: Runechild and Michael's inclusion into the story was almost entirely a whim. I wanted to round out Taylor's cast of ghosts, but I didn't take the time to think through their plots that well. Runechild's storyline, though one I enjoyed a lot, kind of takes over the story after this point, and I consider this where the story begins to spin out of my control.

It was at this point that I started hammering out the specifics of Taylor's power. In retrospect, it was something I should have done much earlier, and there are a number of continuity errors because of it. Her power became very complicated, and very unshardlike. I was still having trouble with her character, and it often created a lot of issues in making the way her power affected her feel organic. It rarely worked.


	12. 1-12

1.12

The sun cresting the horizon sent its rays across the study's carpet. Richard sipped his coffee as he listened to James. He knew that it was coffee. He could, on some level, smell and taste it, but it wasn't a real feeling. More of an academic notion than a feeling. The concept of taste. Just another small reminder that he was not as normal as he might like to think.

As if he could forget. Not with his link to Taylor constantly hovering in the back of his mind. She was coming; moving unerringly toward James' house. If he wanted, he could have followed the link and found her easily. If he was in a hurry, he could pulse- send a wave of his intent along the link, and she would probably call him to her side. It made him uneasy how _right_ that concept felt. She didn't seem to have any hold over his mind, but why then did his distance from her make him so worried?

Was it because she was prone to getting into trouble? Or because she was basically his meal ticket? Because he liked and valued her? He didn't know. Regardless, he kept his focus split between Taylor and James.

"This… Herbert girl." James said. "What are your plans for her?"

"Hebert." Richard said. "I'm tied to her, so we need her on board."

"Empire material?"

Richard shrugged. "In my day, yes. I don't know how my son handles things. She's not comfortable with it though. I doubt she'll ever be a believer."

James raised an eyebrow. Richard kept imposing his memory of what James looked like over this older man who resembled his friend. He looked like James, but James didn't have those fine lines under his eyes, or the wings of gray at his temples.

"I've been soft-balling things for her so far." Richard continued. "Playing up the good stuff and downplaying the bad. Do you know who the second ghost she picked up was? Some nigger, Skidmark."

James snorted into his coffee, and then choked as the drink went up his nose.

"Fucking _Skidmark_?!"

Richard smirked. "I know, right? It's like he was tailor-made to be… I mean, you've met him. It's all I could do not to gut the man."

He sipped the coffee again, decided he didn't like the reminder of his abnormality, and set the mug down. James' study hadn't changed much since Richard died. The furniture and carpet were different, but the dark wood paneling was the same that he and James had installed so long ago.

"We need her on board though. I think we'll get her, too."

"Willingly, or by force?" James asked.

Richard shrugged. "The former, mostly. She's lonely. No friends, isolated because of her powers, father in a coma from a suicide attempt. Easy recruit material. I showed her a little affection and she latched onto me in a heartbeat."

James frowned at him and he hesitated.

"What?"

"It's…" James looked away, gathering his thoughts. "That's the kind of thing I expect to hear from your son. We burn through too many good capes because he uses them like tools. Gesellschaft keeps threatening to stop sending us people."

Richard checked the link again. She would be there soon.

"It's not like that." He said. "Look, I like her, I do. She's damn smart, and there's… buried treasure there. She took to leading her ghosts around like a natural. I didn't get close to her just because of what she's worth. I did it because she's a good kid and I want to help her."

"But…" James supplied.

"Did you see the news? That girl who died in her locker? That's Taylor."  
"In the- _Jesus_ , Richard! How is she still around?"

"Some aspect of her powers. I think she's channeling her own ghost in the same way that she does mine." The link told him that Taylor was coming down the street and he picked up the pace. "Look, that girl who put her in the locker? The black girl? Taylor was ready to kill her without any input from me. First blood, on a parahuman negress. Does that sound like Empire material to you?"

James looked unconvinced. "Villain material maybe, but killing that girl out of revenge is a lot different than killing her because she's black."

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "James, where's she going to go after she kills Night Fighter?"

"Shadow Stalker."

"Same difference. Who better than her good friend Allfather to welcome her into the Empire? Sure, she doesn't believe, but we show her some acceptance, keep her away from the dirty jobs, maybe find some kids her age to make friends with…"

He trailed off, letting James think about it. He could see the gears turning in his friend's head.

"And then?" James said after a moment.

Richard's smile grew wolf-like. "We get her in the Empire and we're set. Do you understand what kind of power we're talking here? How many dead Empire capes are there in Brockton Bay? How many dead villains willing to march under our banner for a second chance? We could drive the Protectorate out. Finally do the city like we wanted."

"That sounds like the Richard I remember." James said, finally smiling. "You old idealist bastard."

"Cynical prick."

They glared at each other. James broke first. He snickered before bursting into laughter. Richard lasted only a second longer before he lost it too. Their laughter filled the room, erasing the last of the lingering, unspoken tension.

After a moment, Richard raised his mug.

"To filicide."

"Dramatic as always, Richard." James said dryly before raising his own mug. "To the Empire."

Coffee made for a poor toast, but they did it anyway. And even if Richard couldn't taste his, his anticipation was flavor enough.

The easy silence that followed lasted until he noticed Taylor's signal.

"She's here." He said.

James' expression sharpened, and for the first time since reuniting, Richard recognized the man he had known.

"Showtime."

SPEAKSPEAKSPEAK

Breaking the thug's nose was amazing. The wet snapping noise of cartilage breaking, the feeling of impact jolting up my arm, the minor flash of not-pain in my knuckles. Not pleasurable in itself, but _incredible_ with the sheer sensation.

Michael could feel things. And I felt what he felt. The feeling of his fists smashing the Merchant to a bloody pulp was my feeling as well. Even if Michael didn't feel as strongly as I had in my brief moment of un-undeath, he still _felt_.

He moved as I willed it. Right now, I was willing him to beat the shit out of the man we'd walked past. Some scumbag Merchant robbing a woman. Allfather would understand the delay.

I'd spent my journey with Michael using him to touch things we passed. Everything we passed, really. Walls, buildings, trash cans, stray cats, sleeping homeless, rotting fruit, rocks, bricks, more stray cats, broken metal, tires, cars, drunk homeless, a dead guy, used needles, even more stray cats… Michael liked cats.

Hitting the robber was better than all that though. I wasn't just using Michael to feel things, I was using him to help someone. I was using my powers to help someone. Yeah… that was a good thought. I could help the dead with my powers, and then help the living with the dead.

Stopping this mugging felt more right than anything I'd done with Allfather so far. I liked him, but joining the Empire? The whole thing felt wrong to me. There had to be other ways to protect Dad than that. A few short hours ago, I'd been ready to make the sacrifice and join the Empire to keep Dad safe, but things were different now.

Completing Michael's contract had changed everything. I could suddenly affect the world. Communicate with people through him. Touch things. I didn't have to rely on a bunch of finicky cape ghosts. I might be able to make it on my own. Without the Empire.

I could complete Allfather's contract and then break off- _Allfather's contract_!

Michael whispered a litany of curses as I took stock of what I knew.

If I completed Allfather's contract, he'd change- turn into whatever Michael was. Some kind of shadow? An echo, maybe? It didn't matter, because I knew that the person named Michael Paulson was gone. I could feel the changes wrought in his shard. It was like it had been overwritten. Where Michael had been, there was only me now. It seemed like there were some remnants- Michael liked cats more than I did. But those remnants were just that- they were leftovers; imprints on the shard.

And if Allfather got what he wanted, he'd end up just like Michael.

I punched the mugger one final time. I relished the sticky feeling of bloody knuckles on skin, but my overall excitement was shot. Even my euphoria about possibly returning to life couldn't stand in the face of what I'd just realized.

The Merchant was a mass of bruises, and he'd lost consciousness at some point, but he'd had it coming. I had Michael throw him in a dumpster.

It was awkward controlling Michael. Like watching myself move on camera. I moved the me that was him, but I was watching through the me that was me's eyes.

"Ma'am?" I said, helping the woman up. Her face was swollen and bruised, and her mouth bloody. "Are you alright?"

She was shaking, and I tried patting her reassuringly on the shoulder.

"Y-y-you." She gasped. "Th-thank you."

The me that was me got a little tearful at that. I might have just saved her life. My first time interacting with a person in so long, and she was _grateful_ to me!

"Do you need me to call the police?" I said through Michael.

"I've got a ph-phone. If you don't m-mind, you c-c-" The woman couldn't get any more words out before she burst into tears, throwing her arms around Michael. She sobbed uncontrollably into his chest, clutching him for dear life. Clutching me

Just for a moment, I lost myself in the contact.

Returning her hug was even better than beating up the mugger.

SPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAK

I left Michael with the woman. If I ordered him to do something, he'd basically go on auto-pilot. So I commanded him to stay and keep her safe until help arrived. It was pretty strange seeing him move autonomously when I'd just had total control of him.

The me that was me went on my way, moving determinedly now. The rest of the journey was uneventful. I started taking shortcuts, cutting straight through buildings and houses to get there faster. Allfather needed to know the truth.

The guilt was staggering. This was as bad as with Dad. I'd hurt another person because of my ignorance of my power. Now Allfather would pay the price, just like Dad had.

My fault.

This was all my fault.

When Michael returned to my power, his job done, I left him unsummoned.

Looking at him made me feel sick.

The house was large and well-kept, in the middle of an upper-class neighborhood I'd never been through before. I assumed it was Krieg's, but it wasn't what I expected from a Nazi supervillain. Having Allfather had shattered most of my preconceptions already, but the normality still threw me off. It was one thing to know that all the supervillains running around Brockton Bay went home to their wife and kids, and another to see it. Skidmark's filthy warehouse had been more in line with what I expected.

I found Allfather sitting in the study, having coffee with another man. Allfather was unmasked, his helmet sitting on the coffee table. He rose to greet me as I walked through the door.

"Taylor." Allfather gestured to me for the man's benefit. "This is James. You might know him better as Krieg."

James was tall and lean. His build made me think that he'd worked hard to keep fit even into middle-age. He smiled politely, but it did little to soften his stern features.

He stood as well, looking at a point about a foot to the left of me.

"Miss Hebert, it's a pleasure to have you here."

My first instinct was to summon Michael so I could talk to James. I smashed the impulse down. He'd just make things worse.

"Allfather, can we talk alone for a minute?" I said. "Something important happened after you left me."

Allfather blinked, looking taken-aback. "Oh? James and I were just planning out my return to the Empire."

"This is related to that. I need to talk to you before we do anything else."

He took in my grave expression and nodded. His eye didn't leave me as he relayed my question to James. I wasn't used to being able to see his face. The worry I saw there only made me feel worse.

James gathered up the coffee mugs. "Take your time, Richard. The kids will be up soon and I've got to make their lunches."

He left through a side door, leaving me with Allfather. I sat down in the spot that James had vacated. Allfather returned to his seat, leaning forward, concern now clear on his face.

"What's wrong?" He said.

"When you left, I helped Michael with his deal. I…" My stomach churned as I tried to figure out how to say it. How was I supposed to tell him? What did you say to someone when you were responsible for their imminent death? Allfather waited patiently while I searched for the words. None came to me, and I squirmed awkwardly on the couch.

Finally, I just bit the bullet and summoned Michael.

What followed was nightmarish.

I explained my powers in detail, as best I knew. And then I explained exactly how I'd damned him with my own stupidity. Allfather mostly stayed quiet, but his expression grew darker with every word I spoke.

When I finished, I thought that he might scream at me, or start breaking things, but he didn't. He just sat there, staring between me and Michael in stony silence. I stayed quiet, letting him process things.

Gradually, emotion edged its way into his blank mask. He had the same expression I'd worn after I died. Utter, mind-numbing despair. He didn't cry though. I didn't expect him to. What he was feeling was too big to be expressed through something as simple as tears. This was world-shattering.

I had destroyed him.

Eventually, I went to sit beside him. I didn't know what else to do. He was coming to terms with the fact that if he completed his contract, he would essentially die again. Dealing with the fact that I'd cheated him out of his dreams. That he was on borrowed time.  
"I'm sorry." I said.

This was my fault. I'd given him false hope; a second chance at everything he'd ever wanted. The Empire, Iron Rain, Brockton Bay. All of it an empty promise.

"I'm sorry, Allfather."

It was long minutes before he spoke to me.

"Damn you." He hissed. "You goddamn bitch. What right do you have to apologize? You offered me the world and- God dammit. My second chance was a _joke!_ It was a devil's bargain, you- you- y-"

His voice broke.

Without thinking, I pulled him into a hug, resting his head against my heart.

I thought he would push me away, but he didn't.

He kept his face against my chest, his whole body heaving.

The front of my shirt felt damp. I didn't look down.

We had no body heat to share.


	13. 1-13, Sophia

1.13- Sophia

March 15th 2008

Sophia adjusted her cape. She'd recycled it out of an old Halloween costume from when she was younger. It was too short now, and it just didn't fit right. Her first night out she'd gotten it caught on a drainpipe while gliding and nearly snapped her neck.

It wasn't going to be that way tonight. This was a new start. Her new costume was sturdy- made from dark camo and pads. And she'd been practicing with her crossbow. Who knew that sporting goods stores sold crossbows? It'd been pretty stupid to go out with just a baseball bat in the first place. She just didn't have the stopping power she needed to put down perps.

That bothered her.

It was a reminder that behind her powers, she was a scrawny 12-year old. And 12-year olds were _weak._ She wasn't weak, but it was an unchangeable fact that as of now, she was limited by her body. She'd already started running, and lifting some of Terry's weights when he wasn't around.

She liked running better. It gave her a chance to get away from Ste- Sophia shook her head. Running gave her the chance to get out of the house and away from her stupid family.

The wind picked up, unusually chilly for March, and Sophia _shifted_ , letting the wind carry her. With the wind behind her, she only had to touch ground every 50 feet or so.

The feeling was incomparable. Her altered state let her _feel_ the wind with her entire body; let it flow through her. Every eddy and change in current, every riser and thermal, every little zephyr that she wouldn't have even noticed in the flesh was like having the breath of life in her now.

Gliding beat the shit out of running, hands down. _Nobody_ told her what to do out here. She was utterly free. She could just let everything fall away behind her. For a while, she just drifted, letting the wind carry her from rooftop to rooftop, moving where it did.

A cry from below caught her attention, and she reluctantly shifted back, dropping to the nearest roof. Physicality returned like a weight around her neck. Her good mood drained away, replaced by the familiar acid heat of her anger.

What fucking asshole was committing a crime now? And to whom? Which one of these worms was too weak to even protect themselves?

It didn't even matter.

The street below was gaudy with neon signs and displays. She'd drifted into one of the more Asian parts of town without noticing. Little Chinatown or something. She saw a few people wearing the red/green of the ABB, but most of the people out on the street were just normals, wrapping up their work for the day.

The cry came again, and Sophia shifted, flitting across the roof to look down at a side street. It was barely narrow enough to call it a street. Little more than a wide alley. A row of trashcans sat along one wall, overflowing with waste. Motion caught her eye. A man struggling with a woman. Possibilities raced through her head. Abduction? Rape? Murder?

…purse-snatching.

Good enough. She was going to hurt him like a rapist though. For spoiling her mood.

The man wrestled the purse away from the woman and shoved her into the trash. She screamed at him in Chinese, her thick eyeliner tear-smeared across her face. The man took off running; not toward the street, but down the alley, heading for a big apartment bloc.

Sophia stared at the was just sitting there, yelling for help. Why didn't she do something? Something tangible, not just screaming. It was… it was almost pathetic. How did these people manage? They couldn't even protect themselves.

Fuck them. She'd managed on her own. Not her problem if they couldn't.

Without another backward glance, she went after the man. He was slow enough that she caught up just as he ducked into the back stairs of the apartment building. He immediately began rifling through the purse, tossing out items as they came to hand. Makeup spilled and scattered on the stairs around him.

Sophia positioned herself and then glided out above the alley, falling down until she was a man's height above the ground. And then she shifted back, dropping to the concrete in a perfect three-point landing. Didn't hurt at all. The kneepads she'd bought had done the trick.

With practiced menace, she raised her head, locking eyes with the purse-snatcher.

"Drop it, asshole."

He yelled something at her in Chinese, and didn't drop the bag.

 _Fuckkk_ , he didn't even speak English How was she supposed to threaten him now?

She raised a crossbow, pointing it at his face. The rapid shift in the man's expressions almost made her laugh. From surprise to anger to piss-your-pants in 5 seconds.

Sophia stalked toward him, keeping the crossbow trained on him. The man stumbled backwards, falling into the stairs. She held out a hand and motioned for him to give her the purse.

"Hands on your head!" She barked. He didn't understand her, but shouting at him was satisfying.

The man tossed the purse at her feet, the contents rolling out onto the pavement. She looked down, and the man lunged at her. The squeak of surprise that escaped her lips was awful.

What was worse was the dreamlike slowness and certainty of what she did next. It was pure reflex. The product of all those hours spent practicing that she was so proud of.

He lunged, and she brought the crossbow up. The barest twitch of her finger on the trigger fired the bolt. There was a hiss, and then the bolt bloomed from his throat in a spray of arterial blood.

He staggered. Fell.

The world returned to normal speed, leaving Sophia standing over him, an empty crossbow in her hands. The bolt jigged in the man's throat as he tried to breathe, blood gurgling out around it. His wet gasping filled the stairwell.

"Oh shit." She whispered.

The man twitched, his leg kicking once, and then lay still.

"Ohh _shit._ "

Her crossbow hit the ground.

She grabbed for it, and fumbled it again, dropping it into the blood now streaming down the stairs. Fuck. Oh fuck. Why couldn't she- the crossbow slipped between her numb fingers and she kicked it away, sending it spinning across the alley.

Fuck fuck fuck oh god, what the fuck!? What the fuck was he doing? He fucking lunged at her when she had a crossbow on him. He'd made her shoot him! It was an accident!

Oh Christ. Oh fucking Christ she was fucked if anyone saw.

Moving jerkily, her legs didn't seem to remember how to bend, she leaned out of the stairwell to check the alley. A slat-ribbed dog was picking through the trash, but it was otherwise empty. Thank God.

Sophia slid back into the stairwell. She looked at the man. At the corpse. His face was slack, his eyes half-open. The bolt protruded from his throat at an angle, hanging limply to the side. Little trickles of blood still flowed from around the shaft.

Sh-she needed to hide the body. Needed to pull the bolt out and- fuck what was she supposed to do? She couldn't lift him. She couldn't lift him but she needed to lift him and- Fuck- she needed to- couldn't _breathe_ \- she needed to hide him- be- because-

She pulled her mask off, letting it fall, taking great gasps of air. Big, lung-filling breaths that tasted like copper blood and moist trash and-

No no no no _no_ _No No NO NO-_

No!

She forced herself to exhale. Inhale. Let the air travel through her, just like it did when she shifted. She didn't think of how the air tasted like the man's lifeblood, or how her face was wet with blood spray. She thought only of the motion of breathing.

In. Out. In. Out.

She was strong enough to do this. Strong enough to not freak out. Strong enough that she wouldn't freak out. She didn't do that anymore. Not since she'd gotten her powers. Since she'd sworn never to let him hurt her again.

She stayed there, her forehead pressed against the wall, forcing herself to breathe. Holding herself in check until her heart stopped racing.

Until her hands stopped shaking.

Until she found something.

Something to focus on, to distract her.

Right. She needed to get rid of him.

Get rid of the body. That came first.

She was…

Not calm.

Focused.

Sophia took one more deep breath and then pulled herself away from the wall. The dead man was still there, his blood now drying on the steps.

As fucked up as what had just happened was, she didn't have any intention of going to prison over some fucking purse-snatcher. She had to hide the body.

She wanted to laugh at the change. When you had something to focus on, everything was so much easier. That was how things worked. She'd focused on being strong, and she'd gotten stronger. And now she was going to focus on getting rid of this jackass.

What was she so upset about anyway? It was the guy's fault in the first place. He'd lunged at _her._ He'd attacked and she'd defended herself. And he was a scumbag. A two-bit, purse-snatching scumbag. Just a piece of shit that she'd gotten rid of.

It wasn't her fault.

She was still a hero.

By the time Sophia twisted the bolt out of the man's throat, she was smiling.

SPEAKSPEAKSPEAK

January 20th, 2011

She could tell immediately that Madison hadn't been sleeping. It wasn't just the dark circles under her eyes. It was all the small details; the way her hair wasn't as glossy as usual, that she wasn't wearing makeup, a slowness in the way she moved. Sophia caught the details within three heartbeats. She took a certain predatory enjoyment out of noticing. It was like an endorsement, her own body coming up to code as a predator.

Emma sat dead center on the sectional sofa that took up the entire back wall of the Barnes' living room. She sat beside Emma. Madison stood in the middle of the room. She was either too uneasy or too panicked to sit. Sophia couldn't tell which.

"What did you want?" Emma said sharply.

Madison quivered at Emma's tone. She reminded Sophia of someone when she huddled in on herself like that… but who?

"I needed to see you guys because," Madison took a deep breath. "It's about Hebert."

That's who it was. Madison reminded her of Hebert. Weak, cowardly Hebert.

"What about Taylor?" Emma said.

"I was just thinking. You two killed-"

Sophia rose to her feet, sneering at Madison.

"You two." she said in a mocking voice. "Don't try to pin this all on us, Madison. You were there. You helped too."

"Yeah." Emma seconded. "What are you _doing_ Madison? She's been dead for three weeks. It's over. Done."

"A-and that doesn't bother you?! That Hebert died because of what we did?"

"Not really." Emma said, her voice too casual.

Sophia thought about it. Did it bother her that Hebert had died? No. She didn't feel anything more for the girl than for any of the others she'd killed as Shadow Stalker.

It was kind of funny, really. She never really _deliberately_ killed anyone. She just didn't try very hard not to. So when people did die, it was accidental. The product of her own apathy. And if they couldn't stop her killing them, they didn't deserve to live anyway.

No, what was funny was Hebert. Sophia loathed Hebert. Had loathed Hebert. Obnoxious, irritating little girl. Someone on the absolute bottom of the food chain. But even with all that hate, it had still been an accident. Even she hadn't imagined that Hebert could be such a nobody that no one would notice her disappearance. That Hebert would suffocate inside her locker over the weekend.

Just a stupid, inconvenient accident. That's all Hebert ever was. An annoyance. Someone who got in Sophia's way just through sheer existence. Someone too weak to even keep on living.

"I mean… it wasn't supposed to happen that way." Emma said slowly. "She was supposed to survive and come out stronger. A survivor. Like I did."

"Bullshit."

Both girls looked at her.

"That's shit and you know it Emma."

"Sophia!" Emma snapped. "She was supposed to be-"

"Nothing." Sophia's patience was worn thin. "You didn't give a fuck whether Hebert died or not. At least have the guts to be honest about it."

She wasn't under any pretensions about Hebert's death, and she was damn sure not going to let Emma have any. It was… it was like it diminished the act. Made it something dirty. Something to feel guilty for.

She continued. "All you wanted to do was hurt her. And you, Madison. You fucking wuss. You were all set to suck up to us by going after Hebert, but now that things are serious, you've got cold feet."

Madison glared at her, her face screwed up like she was about to cry. "Like you're so high and mighty, Sophia. I thought I might not be the only one who felt bad about this. That I was the only one who felt _guilty_ over it!"

Sophia strode forward. Madison was taller than she was, but as Sophia approached, it was Madison who stepped back. She didn't stop until Madison was backed up against one of Alan Barnes' shelves full of law books.

"And so what?" Sophia said. "Feeling guilty about it doesn't unkill Hebert. She's dead. It's over. Get over it."

"No." Madison said softly.

"What do you mean, 'no?'" Emma shouted.

"I meant what I said. I wanted to see if either of you felt any remorse at all over it. So that I could know that my _friends_ were still human."

Sophia stepped back involuntarily. She didn't feel a single shred of remorse for Hebert. She felt annoyance. Inconvenience, really. Hebert's death was a lot more visible than any of the people she killed in costume, and it put her probation in jeopardy.

She and Emma were silent. Madison smiled triumphantly. It wasn't an expression she'd ever seen on Madison wear. An unexpectedly vicious smile.

"Get out of my face." Madison hissed at Sophia. When Sophia didn't move, Madison shoved by her. Without breaking stride, Madison grabbed her clutch bag and headed for the exit.

"Where are you going?" Emma said, sounding worried. Madison paused in the doorway, looking over her shoulder at them.

"The Protectorate. To do the right thing. Goodbye Emma, Sophia."

Red flared at the edges of her vision. The fucking bitch was selling them out! She was saving her own skin and throwing them to the wolves!

"I'll fucking kill you." Sophia growled. She reached for her knife. The one she always carried in the small of her back. If Madison wanted to fuck around with her cape life, then Sophia was going to deal with her like she did with cape problems.

"No!" Emma cried. "Sophia stop!"

The desperate horror in Emma's words made her freeze. The door slammed shut behind Madison, and Sophia cursed inwardly.

"Why?!" She said.

Emma pulled herself off the couch, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Don't. That's murder."

"Hebert was murder too." Sophia said. "Madison's going to rat us out."

"Let her." Emma said. "She's got no proof. Our word against hers. Nobody saw what we did. My dad will wreck them in court. She can't even use your identity as a talking point, because outing you is against the law."

"So we're just going to let her go?"

"Yeah. There's no proof. Unless she recorded us throwing Taylor in the locker or something, she's got nothing."

Sophia thought about it. Emma was wrong. The fact that she, Shadow Stalker was involved meant that shit was about to get real. Because Madison hadn't said she was going to the police. She'd said the Protectorate. And that meant she was going to use Sophia's identity as Shadow Stalker against her.

What would the Protectorate do in this situation? They'd want it quiet. If anyone found out a Ward murdered a teenage girl, the media would have a field day. Emma? The Protectorate wouldn't give a shit about Emma. But for her? Already on thin ice with her probation and with prior records of violence. She'd be lucky to avoid the Birdcage.

"Emma… I need to go."

"You can't go after Madison!" Emma said shrilly.

"No. I mean I need to leave right now."

"Why?"

She pressed Emma back to the couch, looking her square in the eye. "Because if Madison tells the Protectorate, my career is over. I'm toast. And I can't get rid of her. She's too noticeable. It wouldn't be like with Hebert. A pretty little white girl like Madison attracts the media."

"I- I don't understand." Emma said.

"I need to get the fuck out of here. Even if Madison can't prove anything, the minute the Protectorate look into this, they're going to _know_ we did something. I'm going to get some stuff from my house, and I'm going to run for it."

" _What_?!" Emma cried.

She paused, looking down at Emma. Her closest friend. One of the only people in the world who could understand her. Not just predator to predator, but as a person. Emma, who she could look at without hating. Without having the familiar rage curl up inside her.

"Come with me." The words left her lips before she realized she'd even spoken.

"Sophia?" Emma looked bewildered at this sudden turn of events. "Where are you going to go?"

"I don't know. Look, I'm screwed here. It's over for me. You've got a good chance of getting off. But… I…"

Fuck. This was too embarrassing.

"You'd be doing the vigilante thing again?"

She nodded.

"I- no. Emma, forget I asked. It was stupid. You should stay here. Your dad can beat this, and you'll be okay. Tell them- tell them that it was me. That it was all me. If it comes down to it."

"Okay." Emma whispered.

Sophia sighed with relief. She shouldn't have said such a stupid, reckless thing. Asking Emma to give up her life was-

"Take me with you."

This time she was the one staring open-mouthed. Emma smiled at her.

"I'm serious. You aren't going to make it on your own. So… take me with you."

"No. I can't do that."

"You wouldn't have asked if you didn't want me to. What happens if dad can't help me? If the Protectorate wants to fuck me over?"

"Don't throw your life away-"

Emma cut her off. "You're the best part of my life, stupid."

Sophia's thoughts hit a brick wall.

"W-w- but-"

"Shh." Emma shushed her.

Slowly, she stood, holding out her hand to Sophia.

Sophia remembered suddenly, another red-haired girl, much younger. Remembered holding out her hand to that girl in the same way. Remembered how everything had changed on that day.

The day she'd first met Emma.

Sophia took Emma's hand, and her life changed once more.

SPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAK

Ahh... Emma/Sophia, my favorite pairing of insane people.

This was around the point where I finally nailed Sophia's character down, and it's definitely a stronger appearance for her than in Browbeat's chapter.


	14. 1-14

1.14

When Krieg finally returned to the study, I was alone. He looked around for a moment before calling my name.

"Taylor? Are you still here?"

I called Michael back into being. I expected Krieg to jump or be startled, but he only nodded at Michael.

"Hello again, Miss Hebert." Krieg sat down across from me. "Have you seen Richard?"

"Bathroom." I said through Michael. Allfather was actually cleaning up after our talk, but Krieg didn't need to know that.

"Ah." He paused, thinking about something. "So, are all the things he says about you true?"

I figured they'd talked about me, but having him ask me outright was uncomfortable.

"Like what?" I said.

"Quite a lot, really. Your history and your powers, how you're working alongside him to kill Kaiser, et cetera."

I stared at him. "He told you that we're going after Kaiser? What if you were on Kaiser's side?"

Krieg's smile hardened slightly; his mouth tightening. "Miss Hebert, how much did Richard tell you about Caroline?"

"Iron Rain?"

"Yes, but I knew her best as Caroline, just like I know Allfather better as Richard. He and I have been friends for a very long time. When Caroline was born, he named me as her godfather. Had he been around when my sons were born, I'd have done the same for him."

A surge of guilt ran through me at that. I'd brought back his best friend, and now I was going to take him away.

"It was a dark time for us, Miss Hebert. A _very_ dark time for the Empire indeed. We-"

The door clicked shut, and we both looked up. Allfather strode over to my couch, standing behind it rather than sitting. He bore no signs of what had just happened between us. I was glad. I just didn't connect him with those kinds of emotions.

"Don't stop on my account, James." Allfather said.

Krieg nodded and continued. "A dark time. Kaiser's first wife was killed by the Teeth. You probably don't remember them, but they were a gang in Brockton Bay back then. They operate out of Boston now."

"Kaiser's wife?" I said. Huh. I hadn't really pegged Kaiser as the family type.

"Heith." Allfather said softly.

Krieg nodded. "She was a good woman. Max was more upset than I'd ever seen him. He swore revenge on the Teeth, but by the time he was ready to carry it out, the Teeth were all dead. The Slaughterhouse Nine got them to a man. And not just them. The entire Protectorate team too. And many of the smalltime rogues got caught in the crossfire."

Geez. It sounded like there had been a war. What was weird was that it had happened during my lifetime. A full on cape war that I didn't even remember because I was just a kid.

"Things became very chaotic for a while." Krieg said. "Some of the Nine were killed, and they started escalating. Huge public displays of murder and torture, the like of which even we had never seen."

"It was a nightmare." Allfather said. He was quiet. Was he remembering? Everything Krieg spoke of was something that had happened days ago for Allfather.

"Yes." Krieg said simply. But a shadow passed over his face as he said it. "People were dying, half the capes were dead or worse, and we were scrambling around trying to survive."

He looked up at Allfather. "When you… passed, Richard, things went wild. We were already in disarray, and we lost our leader."

"To Kaiser." Allfather growled.

"Perhaps, but we didn't know that then. All we knew was that you disappeared. Kaiser said the Nine got you and Iron Rain, as revenge for one of their members that you slew."

"I didn't slay any of their members." Allfather said.

Krieg shrugged. "We didn't know. We never found your body, or Caroline's. You were just gone, one day."

"I… I'm sorry for that," Allfather said.

"It wasn't your fault." Krieg leaned forward, dropping his eyes to the table. "I wondered, Richard. Wondered for twelve long years what happened to you. And the answer was with us all along."

He paused for a long moment. "What _did_ happen that night?"

I turned to look at Allfather. His face was blank; his eye far-off, looking into his memories.

"I didn't see much before I died. But… I remember my son. He was definitely there. It was him… and two women, I think. And another man. …Or was it three women?"

"Anything specific?"

"Not much. They ambushed me." Allfather clenched his fist. "I died a pitiful death. It was over so _quickly_."

I thought he'd be angry, but he just looked miserable.

"I remember… one of the women, a blonde, laughing when Max did it. And the other was… white-blonde, I think. I think she shot me when the fight started. With Max… I thought he'd gloat. He always liked to talk in a fight, but he didn't then. It was odd. Not like him at all. He didn't even use his powers on me. He used one of my swords to do it."

Allfather fell silent; his eye dark, like a shade had closed behind it. I wanted to say something to him, but what could I say to that?

"I'm sorry to bring it up." Krieg said soberly. "But I needed to know."

"I understand, James. I feel the same way about Caroline. Not knowing what happened to her is a nightmare." He paused. "Did you say that Heith was my son's _first_ wife? What happened to her son, Theo?"

Krieg smiled for the first time in a while. "He's fifteen now. I think he'll be glad to see you, he needs more positive influences in his life. As for Kaiser, he remarried a couple years ago to Kayden Russell."

"Purity?" Allfather shook his head wonderingly. "She always did have a crush on him."

"It didn't work out. She had a child with him right around the time that they split up."

"Oh."

Krieg checked his watch. "I need to wrap this up soon. Medhall calls."

"Hold on." Allfather said. "I… we need to discuss something before you go. What Taylor told me has changed the situation."

Krieg looked on intently as Allfather explained what I'd learned about my powers when I completed Michael's contract. I didn't contribute much. Allfather had a solid grasp on the details, and I didn't trust myself to explain to Krieg why his best friend was going to die. When it was over, Krieg was stone-faced.

"That's a hell of a way for things to go, Richard." He said. "What does this mean for our plans?"

"So far, nothing." Allfather said. "The issue comes at the end. I won't be able to take over the Empire from Kaiser if my contract ends. James, would you be willing to take over when I'm gone?"

Krieg's eyes went wide. "Me? Leading the Empire? I… I mean that's…"

"You don't have to decide now. Think about it, give me your answer later." Allfather managed a crooked smile. "I know you've always wanted the top job."

"I have. I just never expected…" Krieg rose to his feet slowly, looking stunned. "Yes, let me think about it. Right now, I need to go to work. It'll look odd if I call off."

"Take your time." Allfather said.

Krieg paused in the doorway. "I forgot- there's a rally scheduled at the end of the week."

"What for?" I said.

"For you, Miss Hebert. It's a rally for you." He checked his watch again. "Shoot. We'll talk about it when I get home."

He excused himself and left the room. The hurried footsteps and door slamming that followed told me that we were alone in the house. Allfather stood quietly, gazing around the room for a while afterward.

When he finally turned his eye to me, he looked tired; totally and completely drained.

He'd gone from a confident, powerful supervillain to an exhausted, scared man in a matter of minutes.

And that was all my fault.

"I'd like to return, if you don't mind, Taylor."

"I'm sorry, Allfather."

"So am I." He said.

I mostly lay around the house after that. Now that I had Michael, I could do stuff like watch tv if I wanted. But after a couple hours of daytime television, I started getting antsy.

What could I do next? I could use Michael to touch things. I'd already been doing that. I'd touched everything in the room, actually. It was _awesome,_ but what else could I do?

"What do you think?" I asked Michael.

He didn't answer.

I stared at him for a moment before the answer hit me.

 _Of course_.

With a sigh, I banished Michael. Then I dove inward, looking at the shards submerged in my power. Of the three remaining shards that were not-me, I picked two. Skidmark's, a wavy blue gem, with the edges melted into a smooth spiral. And Runechild's, like a pearl, flickering back and forth in place.

The two ghosts appeared before me.

Runechild immediately skittered away from Skidmark, looking nervous. As she turned away from me, I noticed that her white cloak was as bloodstained as her gloves. Like a Jackson Pollack made with blood. How the hell had she managed _that_?

"You guys saw what happened earlier, right?" I said.

Skidmark chuckled unpleasantly. "You and Captain Klan had a pretty fuckin cute little moment there. Gonna marry him and make a bunch of Aryan brats?"

"Shut up. I meant before that."

"Y-you're talking about the contracts." Runechild said. She had her cloak pulled around her like a safety blanket. I wondered if she was still upset. She'd been really upset when I first met her, and I still wasn't sure why. Because she'd died?

"Right." I said. "The contracts. You two saw what happened to Michael when his ended. The fact that completing a contract had an effect means that the deals we have are deeper than just promises. My power does something with them. Knowing what you do now, would you like to change the terms of our deal?"

They both looked thoughtful. I stayed quiet, giving them time to figure things out.

Skidmark spoke first. "So… If I wished to fuck every bitch in the world, you'd help me do it, and I wouldn't die until I did."

I glared at him. "I'm not doing that. Also…" I parsed what he'd just asked. It felt… it felt _wrong_. Unsuitable. It wasn't like a definite yes/no light lit up in my brain. More like a general feeling of warning. Foreboding.

"No. I don't think I can do that, even if I wanted to. Which I don't."

Why was that though? Because it was unfeasible? Because it'd take forever? Because it was essentially impossible to do?

"You're gross." Runechild muttered at Skidmark. "Why would you waste your wish on that?"

"Because there's nothing finer than when you throw a bitch down and-"

"Skidmark!" I shouted. He ignored me.

"-and then she's like 'oh yeah, use the butter and-"

Runechild shrieked, covering her ears. I unsummoned her out of mercy.

"-and the third bitch is standing on the guy's back, using the turkey baster to-"

I covered my ears.

Skidmark kept going for almost five more minutes before I felt it was safe to listen again.

"- and that's when you hand her a rose and tell her… 'The Aristocrats.'" He said, smirking at me.

"I- please, just tell me your wish so I can put you away."

Skidmark rolled his eyes. "Same as it was, Skinny Bitch."

"You said you were going to think about the details. And when it's over, your power becomes mine. Are you okay with that?"

"Pssh, I ain't doing anything else with it. If I gotta die, I'm gonna do it in the biggest, craziest fucking way possible." He paused. "I want… I want to kick Kaiser's ass."

Huh… there might be something to that. Nothing would humiliate Kaiser more than getting beat by a black man. But… no, Allfather would never go for it. He was the kind of guy who fought his own battles.

I shook my head at Skidmark. "I like it, but it's not going to work."

He pursed his lips, thinking hard. "Something big… I want… I want to get the rest of the Merchants out of jail and… Big…"

"Fight the Protectorate?" I suggested. I didn't really like the idea of letting him fight heroes. I still wanted to be a hero someday, and it set a bad precedent.

"Bigger. Like… Triumvirate level. So big that the whole fuckin world sits up and shits its pants at how cool it was."

Ookay, he was getting to scary levels there.

"Too big." I said. "Let's focus on Brockton Bay. You were mad at the capes that live here."

"No!" Skidmark shouted suddenly. "Fucking A- I've got it!" He turned to me, grinning through his mouth full of rotting teeth. "I want to get the rest of the Merchants out of prison and fight an Endbringer."

…

He could not be serious.

"Please tell me you're joking." I said numbly.

Skidmark sat down on the coffee table, facing me.

"Listen up. The Merchants have never once been to an Endbringer fight. It's part of why the other capes think we're lower than dogshit. Well we're gonna show every single one of those dickfucks. You, me, and the Merchants, can work together as one team during the fight. If we could get together and hit one of those giant cocksuckers hard enough, I can die happy."

"I mean, that's global shit right there. Every big name cape shows up. I want to get up there and roll with the badasses, even if it's just for a second. The Merchants look like a bunch of hardcore motherfuckers, and you can use my corpse as a meat puppet or whatever the fuck you do with it."

Skidmark finished his speech, panting slightly.

"Whadya say, Skinny Bitch?"

He was asking a lot. Endbringers were the _major_ leagues. That was end of the world stuff there. But… if I were a hero, would I have gone to fight them? I… yes, I thought so. And I was probably safer than the average cape because of the whole ghost thing. What did I want to do?

I wanted to be a hero, and being a hero here meant stepping up and fighting.

"Skidmark, you've got a deal." I held out a hand. "Don't make me regret this."

We shook on it, and I realized that I actually felt good about granting his wish. Despite my misgivings, we might actually make a difference. This wasn't the morally ambiguous nightmare I'd ended up with in helping Allfather, this was fighting the Endbringers. That was as heroic as you got.

Skidmark stepped back and I was about to unsummon him when he spoke.

"Shit, I forgot! There's a ghost I know about. Didn't think of her until a little while ago. The fuck was her name… Manny… Maggie… Mary… that's it- _Marisol._ Her cape name was Marisol. Killed herself ages ago, when the Merchants were just getting started."

That was unexpected. Skidmark was really surprising me today.

"Will you show me later?" I said.

Skidmark snorted. "That bitch ain't going anywhere. 'Oh boohoo, I don't wanna be a monster!' _Splat._ We'll get her after you're done with your Nazi boyfriend."

"Allfather is old enough to be my dad!" I shouted.

"Hey, I ain't one to judge. If you wanna hit that, then you-"

I unsummoned him.

Hmph.

It wasn't until I stopped fuming that I called Runechild again.

"H-hi." She said quietly.

"Hi Runechild." I said. "So… I was asking you about making a contract. Knowing what you do about the results, do you still want to do that?"

She wasn't looking at me. She was inspecting her gloves again. They were white silk, and peppered with the same collage of bloodstains that her cloak had.

"He died." She said. "He died because of me. I should have gotten him out."

"Who?"

"Detective Wickman. Could your power… could it bring him back?"

"Was he a parahuman?" I asked. I had a feeling, and I dreaded her answer.

She shook her head slowly. "Just a normal guy."

"I'm sorry, but my power only works on parahumans."

"Oh." She slumped back onto the other couch, pulling her cloak around her again.

This was agonizing.

"Was there anything else you might want?" I said.

Runechild exhaled sadly, blowing her bangs up. "Everything. I never got a chance to do anything. Never got to kiss a boy, or be a hero, or drive a car…"

It felt like someone was slowly replacing my insides with lead. I'd never gotten to do any of those things either.

"Could I make a list of things we could do?" She said. "There's a lot. I want to see some people, and I want to stop a crime, but I also want to get Mouse Protector's autograph if I can."

I parsed that and got the same sense of foreboding.

"No." I blinked. "Mouse Protector? The superhero?"

"Yeah!" Runechild said, excitement replacing her depression in an instant. "When I lived in Japan, she did a guest spot on this sentai show."

She leapt up, posing dramatically. "Mausu-Proteckta, go for justice!"

I stared, and Runechild dropped the pose, looking a little embarrassed. "After I got my powers, she was my inspiration to become a hero."

"Let's see if we can put that one on the backburner." I said.

Runechild sighed. "Yeah… Could I wish to do just a couple things, and that's it?"

I checked. This time the feeling I got was still wrong, but closer to hopeful.

"Narrow it down, please."

She perked up a little. "I want to visit Detective Wickman's grave to say goodbye, and then see my…" Her voice hitched. "My sister."

I thought about it. "How about you wish to go see your sister, and we can visit Wickman's grave on the way? I think the contracts work better with specifics. Like, now we have a clear ending to our deal."

Runechild held out a hand before hesitating, and then pulling her bloody glove off.

"Alright. Taylor, I, Noriko Aida, wish to go see my sister.

The metaphorical lights for the wish were all green.

"Deal."

I took her hand.

( _condition set_ )

It was a small contact, but I savored the warmth.

Soon. Soon I'd be able to feel again.

Afterward, I let Runechild return to my power so I could get some rest. I was still tired from when I'd gone transparent at Skidmark's warehouse, and my irregular schedule wasn't helping. I'd been up all night two days in a row.

And they'd been busy days too. Between Allfather, my father, Skidmark, my powers, almost dying, finding out about Sophia… They'd been _really_ busy days.

The house was still quiet, and Krieg wouldn't return for a few more hours, so I stretched out on his couch and curled up. Sleep took me almost instantly.

I dreamt of my shards.

Shards grown big as mountains; every jeweled facet a shining mirror, reflecting with scenes and images. They were impossibly beautiful. So fragile. So _perfect_ that looking at them was almost painful. They were beautiful, and they were _mine_.

I dove inward, swept along in the sea of my power by a current that I imagined into being. One shard rose in front of me, and the current carried me to it. The shard was clear, its reflections sharper than the others, like it wanted to tell the whole world its story.

I had only to stretch out a hand and I was within, letting its essence wash over me like an embrace.

I was sixteen. Gangly, aching from growing pains, but exalted. The small bundle in my lap shook and whimpered, and I held it closer with my free arm. I doubted Mom and Dad would ever imagine that my first solo drive would be like this.

We were halfway home when I pulled over to check on him. Nestled in my lap was a dog. I'd wrapped him in my sweatshirt to keep him warm, but he still shook with fear. A single bleary eye looked up at me; the other crusted shut with yellowy mucus. His gray fur was matted and spotty. In places, blood had soaked through into the sweatshirt. It would stain, but I didn't care.

What did a piece of clothing matter compared to a life?

The scene blurred.

I was nineteen. Nineteen and almost delirious with joy. She'd said yes! Meredith had said yes! For the first time in my life, I, Michael James Paulson had a girlfriend!

It blurred again, and I had a sense of regression.

Meredith, her brown hair windswept and wild, stood on tiptoe to kiss me. Just the barest brush of her lips on mine sent my heart racing, and my palms sweating.

"You're such a dork, Michael." She said. "But you're _my_ dork."

She gave me a playful punch on the shoulder and then ran for it. I stood and watched her go. It took my breath away. I tried to take in every detail of the scene and etch it forever in my mind.

Meredith ran, her long hair streaming out behind her. The setting sun to our left, the city to our right. Twin plumes of sand kicked up by her heels hung in midair. She turned then, and called to me.

"Cmon Michael!"

It felt like a dream.

Blur.

I was twenty.

The carcass in the alley was swollen; the air thick with flies.

Leo. My dog.

He'd lost the eye three years ago to infection, but now the empty socket gaped up at me.

His eyelid had been torn off.

All my work. All the days spent searching. Visiting every shelter in the city. I'd put up ads, posters, cries for help. And here I found him.

Two hundred feet from my house.

In the alley outside of a dogfighting ring.

I fell to the ground.

The knees of my jeans grew damp almost at once, and I realized that I was kneeling in Leo's blood.

I reached out, my hand shaking. I'd reach out and shake him awake, and it would all be better. This couldn't be what really happened. He couldn't possibly be-

 _Stars_.

 _Countless stars, shining like a web of jewels._

 _Stars and huge shapes-_

- _spiraling-_

 _-and-_

 _-crystalline-_

The scene shattered.

My mind recoiled. I'd seen something I shouldn't and now-

 **B** lU _r_.

I was twenty-four. "Old enough to know better, and young enough not to care," as Dad had put it at my birthday party.

Noah's Bark was slowly but surely gaining ground. All the sleepless nights we'd put in were paying off. The animals were happy and healthy, and we were finding homes for them. My powers played a part, but Meredith and Eliza's hard work evened the playing field between us.

I finished cleaning Rambo's pen. Rambo waited outside for me to clear off, and then inspected cautiously, snuffling and sniffing every bit of the pen.

" _I'll feed you in a minute_." I said.

The big Doberman wagged his stumpy tail. He didn't understand time like a human did, but he still _understood_ what I was getting at. It wasn't the best power, but I wouldn't trade it for the world.

The back room of the shelter was crowded with supplies. Eliza had finally gotten certified as a Vet-Tech, so now we could stock all sorts of medications for the animals. I hefted the bag of dog food over one shoulder, heading back to Rambo when-

There was a splintery crash as the back door swung open, the lock spinning off across the floor. The men standing in the gap wore the yellow bandannas that signified Merchants.

My blood boiled. How dare they break in?!

I ran at them, my fists raised. I wasn't much of a fighter, but in that moment I was too angry to care.

I wouldn't let them ruin this!

It was our place!

Our dream!

I sent the first man's teeth flying with a right hook. He stumbled backward, cursing at me through a mouthful of blood. The second man pushed him aside, raising a pistol and-

My face was wet.

Was I…

What had I been dreaming about? I'd seen something bad, and everything after that was hazy.

It… no, it didn't matter. I was too warm and cozy to deal with this right now.

Before long, I drifted off again.

The shards were beautiful.


	15. 1-15

1.15

Five days until the rally.

I woke up on a different couch than I'd gone to sleep on. Krieg's study was gone, and in its place I found myself in a warehouse. There were some spare crates around the floor, my couch, and a television, but the rest was mostly empty. A second-story catwalk ringed the floor leading to what I supposed was an office.

"We needed somewhere covert." Allfather said suddenly.

I jumped and nearly fell off the couch. He was sitting behind the couch on a rickety looking chair. I hadn't even noticed him.

"Geez, Allfather! I- _geez_." My heart didn't beat, but that didn't stop me from imagining that my heart was pounding with surprise. "Why here?"

"The Empire uses it as a backup. James said that they don't use it much, so you'll be staying here until the rally."

He stood, stretching, and I saw that he'd ditched his armor for a golf shirt and khakis. Probably Krieg's clothing. It was downright bizarre to see him without his armor on. I'd seen him unmasked before, but I just didn't associate the armored knight I'd spent days around with this middle-aged man who wouldn't look out of place at a PTA meeting.

"James' children don't know he's a cape, so we needed to clear out." Allfather continued. "I need to get going. James and I have a lot of planning to do. I've got to get caught up with the situation, and he's got to plan for running the Empire."

"Oh." I said. "What should I do?"

Allfather was already headed for the door. "Whatever you want."

"Could I-"

The door slammed behind him.

I slumped back onto the couch. He was still pissed off at me. Actually no. It was worse than that. I was getting the same impression from him that I'd gotten from Dad so many times.

Distance.

Allfather didn't want to be around me.

"Dammit." My voice echoed through the empty warehouse.

I ended up going to see Dad. I didn't really have anything better to do. The walk to the hospital took a while, but I had plenty of time to kill.

I spent Monday watching Dad. He just lay there; the only sound in the room the rhythmic hiss of his respirator. I dozed off after a while, but every time a nurse entered, I jolted awake because I thought Dad was waking up. I held off my disappointment as the nurses did their stuff; turning him over and checking his vitals. Every time I had the same stupid hope. "This time," I thought. "They'll see something different and they'll wake him up!"

But no. The nurses never did anything different. Nothing ever changed. On Tuesday, Runechild ended up dragging me out after a few hours. She couldn't understand. Dad's condition was my fault. If I'd handled my problems better, I'd still be alive, and he wouldn't have gotten hurt.

My fault.

I spent the rest of Tuesday in front of the tv. There wasn't anything I wanted to watch. I was just vegging. Visiting Dad had sapped all my energy. Allfather wasn't around. He and Krieg were off putting together their plans for everything, and I was left alone.

Even having Michael around didn't make me feel better. If he had a choice, he probably wouldn't want to be around me either. My power was sad. I was so lonely that my power forced people to be my friends.

That realization drained the last of my energy for the day.

And so it went.

SPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAK

Three days until the rally.

On Wednesday, as I was getting ready to go see Dad, Runechild's shard pulsed at me. I manifested her. She came into existence with her arms folded, scowling at me.

"Taylor, you don't need to keep doing this to yourself." She said.

"Doing what?"

"Torturing yourself. I asked Allfather and he said that you're feeling guilty because of your Dad, and that it's not your fault."

I stared at her. "You talked to Allfather?"

Runechild nodded. "Yesterday. I got worried after you spent twelve hours on the couch because I made you leave the hospital." She hesitated. "He was… not _pure_ evil? Kind of a jerk though."

"Well Allfather is wrong." I said. "If I had been there, Dad would still be okay."

"If I had done better, Detective Wickman would still be alive!" She snapped. Spots of color rose in her pale cheeks, and she had her hands balled up in her cloak.

"Look, I know what you're feeling, Taylor. It's stupid and irrational, and I can tell you why you're wrong, but you won't ever believe me because guilt is just dumb that way. It's just like how nothing you could say would convince me that Wickman wasn't my fault. Because it was, and it was _shitty_ and I messed up and- and-"

Runechild sniffed, and then burst into tears, her determined expression giving way to blubbering.

I froze. What the hell? She went from consolation to tears in about five seconds flat. What did I do? Did I give her a hug, or just let her cry herself out? What would I want someone to do if I was upset?

"Noriko?" I said tentatively. "What should I do?"

Runechild cried harder. "Th-that's just how Setsu would say it! Sh-she w-would be a big dork about it too and it always m-made me…" Her sobs turned into hiccups. When they finished, she spoke quietly. "She always made me _laugh_."

Okay. So I needed to make her laugh. That was… not likely. I wasn't a funny person. I never had been, and being dead had only soured my humor. What did Runechild even like? Mouse Protector? Costumed hero shows?

"I… what do you think is funny?" I said awkwardly.

Runechild looked at me through tear-stained eyes, hiccupped again, and then sniffled. "You _are_ just as bad as Setsu! She was just as grumpy as you."

"I'm not grumpy." I said.

"Just like that!" Runechild said. The corners of her mouth twitched. "And when you and Allfather are together, you're both huge sourpusses!"

Who said 'sourpusses?' What year did she think it was?

…okay, that was a bad question. She was still outdated though.

"Uh... so, Setsu was your sister, right?" I needed to change the subject.

Runechild's expression fell instantly, and I thought she might start crying again. "She _was._ U-until-"

"Don't cry!" I shouted desperately. It seemed like everyone was always crying nowadays, myself included. "Why don't you… show me your… your powers?"

 _Fuck_. I wanted to smack myself. Talking about powers wouldn't make her feel any better. Mine just made me upset. Even the fun stuff like coming back to life didn't take the edge off them.

But I was wrong. Runechild looked at me for a long moment before breaking into a broad smile. Good lord, I couldn't have been this bad at her age. She was only what- three years younger than me? I understood that she was handling grief in her own way, but she was a freaking emotional roller-coaster so far.

"Alright, Taylor. Powers time!" She leapt up, sweeping her cloak back with a dramatic wave. "I, Pretty Soldier Runechild, will demonstrate my mastery over time and space!"

She went through a series of poses and hand gestures, ending with her flinging something at me. It fluttered to land at my feet. A… notecard? She'd thrown a notecard at me. There was an odd, spiky symbol written on it in what looked like permanent marker. Like arrows spiraling into a single point.

"Dimensional Dive!"

There was a faint popping noise, and Runechild was in front of me. Like two inches in front of me. She'd crossed the distance between us instantly. So instantly that I hadn't seen her move. I stumbled backwards and fell.

"Sorry, Taylor." Runechild said. She helped me up, looking sheepish.

"That was something." I said. "You've got super speed?"

"Teleportation." She said. "I draw this rune," She held up another notecard, this one with the same spiraling arrows on it. "And I can teleport to it. I've got a whole deck of notecards like this, and when I was trying to be a hero, I drew my runes everywhere I went."

Runechild paused and looked off into space. "Huh… Nope. I can't feel any of them anymore. I guess people just took them down after a while, or the effect wore off."

"That's a pretty awesome power." I said.

"It's not _that_ great," She said, blushing. "Not as cool as bringing people back to life. I mean, I'd still be dead if y-you hadn't-"

Her voice hitched, and I knew she was about to start crying again.

"So what's with all the chanting and posing?" I said hastily.

I could tell that she knew I was changing the subject, but she smiled at me anyway.

"It takes me a few seconds to locate my runes, so I cover it up with posing and stuff. Also," Runechild posed dramatically for effect. "It looks awesome! I start slow, but once I get them mapped in my head, I can move a lot faster."

She started fumbling through the pockets on her small utility belt. "Lemme just… look…" After a few unsuccessful searches, she pulled her cloak off and handed it to me. "Hold that. I can't reach these back ones… and there!"

Runechild held up a thick stack of her rune cards. With a flourish, she fanned them out and then tossed them into the air. Cards flurried around us like paper snow.

"I'm not helping you pick those up." I said.

"Just watch."

She held her pose for almost a minute; eyes screwed up with concentration. And then she _moved_.

There were dozens of rune cards around us, and she blinked between them almost too fast to see. I'd see a flash of white in the corner of my eye, but by the time I looked, she was gone, already moved on to another card. The muted 'pop' of her teleportation was so rapid that it sounded like someone making popcorn.

Suddenly, she blurred to a stop, panting. "Done."

"Holy shit." I whispered.

Runechild took a bow.

Afterwards, as I helped her pick up the notecards, I couldn't help smiling at her.

"Weren't you supposed to cheer me up? It ended up being all about you." I said.

"It worked, didn't it?"

"Cocky brat."

Her grin was contagious. "Sourpuss."

It wasn't until I unsummoned her that I realized she'd left something behind. Her cloak still hung from the back of a chair.

Two days until the rally

Thursday dawned bright and sunny. I woke up with Runechild's cape draped over me like a blanket. It was a little small for me, but surprisingly warm. The bloodstains were off-putting, and I didn't really need a blanket to begin with, but it made me feel safe. I could see why she always wrapped herself up in it.

I summoned her to return it. Only… I tried to. Runechild didn't come. I looked inward, and her shard was cracked; damaged like she'd been hurt. I poured my energy into it, mending the damage. It felt like she'd lost a limb, from the amount it cost me to repair her.

"Are you okay?" I shouted when she finally appeared.

"Yeah. What's wrong?"

"You got hurt somehow. Did something happen while I was asleep?" I was grasping at straws. Could something hurt her even as a shard?

Runechild blanched, pulling her cloak around her defensively. "I- I don't think so."

I stared. Runechild was wearing her cloak. The same cloak that I had in my hand.

"Let me see that." She pulled off her cloak and I compared the two. Identical down to the last blood spatter. Like photocopied Rorschachs.

"Taylor?" Runechild said nervously. "Is something wrong?"

I unsummoned her. And… didn't resummon her. Her shard was damaged again. In my hand, I held two copies of her cloak. The cost to regenerate her again left me dizzy, swaying on the couch. When I called her again, she had her cloak on.

So… My power had my ghosts a certain way, and if they deviated, it cost me to repair them? Losing an arm was considered the same thing as losing a cloak. But if I could afford to pay that cost…

My eye twitched.

The _possibilities_.

James came home to find two people sitting in his study. Richard was going through paperwork, making terse conversation with the… other. Who the hell was that?

"Taylor?" He said hesitantly.

The second turned toward him. His first thought was something about the Invisible Man. His second, more worrying thought, was about the Red Death.

A third figure flickered into existence; a spectral man, his eyes lit with green balefire.

"Hi James." His voice held an eerie undertone, like two voices spoke from the same mouth. The second voice was female, almost too quiet to hear.

 _Good Christ._ Everything about the girl's power was terrifying. He was made of sterner stuff than most men, and she still sent shivers down his spine. It was an almost primal fear.

"I figured out how to make a costume." Michael's shade said.

Taylor stood and held out her arms, posing for him. Wrapped around her like a dress were long lengths of white cloth, all liberally stained with blood. Impossibly stained with blood. He knew from long experience that blood dried to an ugly brown, but this was bright, arterial red, like it had just spilled from the vein moments before.

Ripped cloth was twined around her arms like bandages. There was nothing in between the gaps in the cloth. It was given form by something unseen. There was just enough cloth used to give shape, but enough was missing to make him uneasy. The strips of cloth that formed her mask only covered her mouth and nose, leaving only disturbingly empty space for the rest of her head.

"What do you think?" Her enthusiasm sounded out of place in Michael's unearthly voice. "I can touch things now!"

Taylor waved a cloth-wrapped hand. All her fingers were tightly bound in fabric. She could touch things now? Using the cloth as a medium, maybe?

James remained silent for a long moment, trying to think of something to say. Something that didn't involve Stephen King's _Carrie._ Or any number of horror stories about bloodstained brides.

Richard, bless his soul, filled the silence admirably.

"I told her it scared the shit out of me."

James nodded. Richard had always had a way with words.

One day until the rally.

Runechild made the week bearable. She was perky enough to keep me from getting depressed, but also emotionally damaged enough that she took up a lot of my attention. It was an odd combination, but it worked, somehow. Helping her helped me stay distracted, and she slowly got more in control as she adjusted to being dead.

I tried not to bring up certain topics though. Being dead was one. Her sister was another. Detective Wickman was the third. Mentioning them or anything related to them would send her into an instant spiral of guilt and depression.

Friday afternoon found us sitting on the catwalk in the warehouse. Runechild was dangling her legs through the railing, drinking a pop. I didn't see the point. She couldn't taste it.

"So… I've got nothing to do. You wanna go fight crime?" I said.

"Kick. Ass." Runechild said. "Where do we start?"

I had to think about that. "Well, Brockton Bay is kind of a shithole."

"Still?"

"Yup. So there's lot of places to start. There's the Empire, but… I don't want to fight them in case Krieg takes over, because then it makes things harder for me."

Runechild raised an eyebrow. "Why would you fight the Empire? Aren't you a Nazi?"

My jaw might have hit the floor. " _What_?"

"Yeah." Runechild sounded confused. "You hang out with Nazis, and you're planning to help Allfather take over the Empire. I just figured. I mean, you're nicer to me than Allfather, so you're probably not a very good Nazi, but still."

"I'm not a Nazi." I said firmly. "The thing with the Empire is just because of my contract with Allfather. If you'd contracted to take over the ABB, I'd probably help you with that in the same way."

She shivered. "Let's stay away from them."

I didn't press the issue. We both lapsed into thoughtful silence.

It seemed like my ruse to masquerade as an Empire cape had been successful enough to convince an impressionable twelve-year old girl. That whole thing was… did I even need it? Was associating with the Empire to protect Dad worth the effort?

My contract with Michael had opened a _lot_ of new doors for me. Enough that I felt confident in being able to walk away from the Empire before things got serious. Allfather was definitely the deal-breaker though. If Allfather wasn't going to be in charge, I had some serious misgivings. I didn't know who Krieg was or what he was like. I couldn't count on him to honor the same things that Allfather would, and I didn't trust him in the same way.

It was sounding more and more promising to just strike out on my own and gather ghosts solo. I'd always wanted to be a hero, but more than that now, I wanted to live. It eclipsed any other goals I had. Now that I had a chance to come back, I was going to claw my way back to life. Getting entangled with the Empire would just impair that.

The warehouse door swung open and Allfather strode in. He was wearing civilian clothes again. Speak of the devil…

"Say hi to the fuhrer for me, fraulein." Runechild said with a smirk. She skipped off down the catwalk. I let my solidity go, phasing through the catwalk to the floor below.

"Hey." I said. Seeing Allfather was awkward. I knew he didn't want to see me, but now that I saw him, I realized that I missed talking to him.

"Taylor. Are you ready for the rally tomorrow?" He said. "You've got that costume, but have you gone over the speech we prepared?"

"Yeah. I practiced a bunch earlier. Noriko helped me."

"I see. The entire city is going to watch. If you don't feel comfortable, I can speak instead."

What he was saying should have been comforting; offering to take a burden off me. But the way he said it was so cold and formal that it just made me uneasy.

"I can do it. I wouldn't miss this one for the world."

"See that you don't." Allfather said. He was already turning to leave.

I dithered there, trying to think of something to say, something to mend the distance that had formed between us. My failings had driven Dad and me apart, and now it was happening again.

"I'm looking forward to completing our contract!" I shouted.

Okay, so maybe I was pretty pissed off at him too. He'd ditched me in a warehouse for a week because he was too upset to deal with me.

Allfather froze, one hand reaching for the door.

"What did you say?"

"You heard me."

He turned on his heel and in an instant, towered over me; his stare as cold and hard as ice.

"Taylor, think _carefully_ about what you're going to-"

"I'm not joining the Empire either." I met his eye without flinching. Allfather opened his mouth and I cut him off again. Time to go all in.

"Why have you been avoiding me?"

"I haven't been."

"Don't lie to me Allfather. I thought we were on better terms than that."

A red flush was rising in his face. Was it embarrassment, or just simple anger?

"Taylor, I wouldn't lie- I just…" Allfather dropped his gaze. "I need to go."

"No!" I caught his wrist. If he wanted to walk away, I couldn't stop him, but I held on anyway.

"You don't get to go until you explain why you've been so weird! I've had it with all that! I got enough at home. I've _done it_ enough to know how much it hurts."

Allfather stayed where he was, still not meeting my gaze.

"Let go of me."

"No. Tell me. What are you so scared of?"

He stiffened suddenly, and I realized what I'd just said.

What did he have to be afraid of? He had nothing left to lose. He was already… he was already dead. I stepped closer and put a hand on his other wrist.

"Are you afraid of dying?"

"No." He said it with conviction, but took a step back at the same time.

"Everyone's afraid of dying." I stared at him. "Is this… is this your way of coping?"

" _No_." Another step back. I followed, still holding onto him.

I said the words that I would have wanted to hear.

"It's okay. You're going to be okay."

"How? How, Taylor? How am I possibly going to be alright?" His voice rose. "My life came to nothing! My family is dead, my life's work failed, and my second chance was a sham!"

"You still got a second chance." I said.

"So what?" He sneered.

"So _everything_. That's more than anyone else gets."

"And then what, Taylor? I'm supposed to just be happy to die again?"

His back hit the wall. I moved forward until we were almost touching.

"That's my fault." I said. "If I knew what my powers did, I wouldn't have given you false hope. But… you still have that second chance. What are you going to do with the time you have left?"

"Taylor, stop."

"You've got a shot to make things right."

I did too, I realized. This was my do-over. My chance to fix my shitty life and start over.

"I was thinking, Allfather. What is my role in this situation? Where do my powers leave me?" I jabbed a finger into his chest. "Helping you. My job is to help you finish what you need to finish."

"And then I die?" He said acidly.

"And then you die _happy_. Would you rather go out like you did- dying in some alley to an ambush?

Allfather pulled away from me and stormed toward the door. I shouted after him.

"Or do you want to go out like I know you want to? Victorious. The Empire saved. Your best friend in charge. Your daughter avenged."

He froze once more, his hand on the doorknob.

"What did you wish for, Allfather?"

The door slammed behind him.

There was a pop, and Runechild appeared behind me, drinking another soda.

"Are you _sure_ you're not a Nazi?" She said. "That looked a lot like you convincing him to do Nazi stuff."

Through our link, I could feel Allfather getting further away from me.

Saying it aloud to him had crystallized something for me. I wanted to help my ghosts. Not just help them because I needed to, but because I _wanted_ to. That was my role.

My powers weren't just for me alone. In the same way that I'd wanted to be a hero to the living, I could be a hero to the dead.

I smiled at Runechild. "Not a chance."

SPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAK

Hooo... boy...

This is where things really start breaking down in terms of plotline. I knew where I was going, but not how to get there, and all these middle chapters are me getting lost along the way.

This is noticeably where I started making efforts to crystallize Taylor's motivation and goals, but I still never grasped her personality, and really never did until I started writing Yearning. The end result is a confusing, muddle character, who comes off less interesting than her ghosts, and really gets dragged along by the plot.

It's my firm belief that writers should know where they're going and how to get there, so as to adjust the pacing and story appropriately. I didn't know that yet when I was writing Speak, and it really shows.


	16. 1-16

1.16- Rally

The streets around the PRT Headquarters were clogged with bodies. From the roof of a neighboring building, I could look down at the sea of protestors. The buzz of hundreds of voices carried up to me, the anger palpable even from a distance.

BBPD members clad in riot gear hemmed the edges of the crowd, and a solid line of them kept anyone from entering PHQ. There were no capes in evidence though. A podium had been erected in front of PHQ, and various speakers were cycling through. The current speaker was haranguing the Protectorate for not being accountable enough. My turn was coming up soon.

"This is all for me?" I said. Krieg stood back from the railing, checking his phone. He looked up as I spoke.

"We didn't call it the 'March to Remember' for fun. They're here because of you."

"How many of them are Empire?"

Krieg chuckled. "Not all of them. Kaiser loved getting a chance to take a shot at the Protectorate, but a lot of them are just regular civilians. It turns out that a lot of people aren't big fans of heroes killing normals."

I stared over the railing again. There were a _lot_ of people down there.

"Geez. You're sure they're going to listen to me?"

"Nobody likes seeing capes get away with murder, Taylor. The Protectorate is going to regret this for a long time."

Someone in the crowd tossed up a beach ball. I watched it bounce around knots of protestors while I thought. Originally, my incentive to speak here was to align myself with the Empire. I didn't want to do that anymore, but I hadn't backed down. Here was a chance to not only punish the Protectorate for keeping Sophia around, but to ensure that she was forever remembered as a murderer.

Was it fair to go after the entire Protectorate for what she did? Probably not, but I deserved some payback, and there was no way they couldn't have noticed what a psycho she was. As far as I was concerned, they were as complicit as Winslow was. Speaking of Winslow-

I flicked through my speech notes and added a reminder about Winslow. I was going to throw them under the bus. The Protectorate I might cut a little slack, but Winslow? Fuck them.

Krieg checked his phone again. "Alright. My contact just texted me. You're up in twenty minutes."

Yay. Public speaking, my favorite. If I still had the ability, I'd have been sweating buckets.

"You're just going to watch from up here?"

"I'm not a fan of crowds. And Kaiser can't know I was involved in this. There are enough of our people down there that someone might recognize me." Krieg sidled up to lean against the railing. "The view from here is better anyway."

"Alright then." I left Krieg and moved further down the roof. The wind rustled my hood as I went. It was a new addition to my costume; Krieg's idea. He thought that it'd be easier for people to empathize with someone who wasn't headless. It was hard for me to tell, but I liked the effect. My outfit felt more complete with it.

Allfather was crowd-watching on the far corner of the roof, his helmet swiveling back and forth rapidly. As I approached, he faced me.

"I… hey." I said awkwardly. He looked at me, not speaking. "Are you ready?"

"I'm ready." He said. "Are you?"

I was very glad I couldn't throw up, because I was that level of nervous. Allfather seemed to see something similar in my expression.

"Taylor, you…" He hesitated, before doing something I didn't expect. He pushed away from the railing and put his hands on my shoulders.

"Listen, I gave what you said to me some thought. What you said about your role. I thought about my role in this and… Taylor, I owe you an apology."

"Allfather, you don't, really-"

"I do." He said firmly. "I was having trouble coming to terms with things, but it wasn't fair to take it out on you. I was, as Skidmark would put it, a 'Nazi dickweed.'"

I snorted with laughter. "You were kind of a dick. But look, it's- everybody deals with shit in different ways. I spent an entire month moping around. I shouldn't have expected you to just get over it right away."

"Let's just say we're both sorry then." He said.

I nodded, and a sliver of tension slid out of my heart.

"I have a few other things to cover before you go up there." Allfather continued. "The first is the Empire."

"I'm not joining." I interjected. "I mean it."

Allfather leaned in, and I could see his eye narrowed slyly behind his visor. "Fine. Don't join."

I stared at him. Allfather had basically done nothing but insist on me joining the Empire since I'd met him.

"You don't have to join them. But that doesn't mean you need to burn that bridge. When we kill my son, you'll have the gratitude and support of the Empire. Krieg will aid you in whatever ways you need."

"I don't know…" I said slowly. "I really don't want to be with them."

"Then don't be. Leverage their support. Your deeds will make you a favored daughter of the Empire, regardless of where you stand on the matter. Even if they don't support our killing Kaiser, what you do here-"

He swept his hand wide, encompassing the entire crowd. "What you do here today will tie you to the Empire in a meaningful way. Treat it like mercenary work. You'll do them a favor now and then, and they'll repay you."

"How are they supposed to repay me?" I said. There were two things I wanted in the world: ghosts and Dad.

When Allfather spoke, I could hear his grin. "Ghosts, Taylor. Ghosts. The Empire is one of the best connected parahuman groups in America. How many dead capes will they know about? Not just here, but across the country. And if they contact Gessellschaft, you'll have a shot at ghosts across _Europe_."

I couldn't stop my eyes from going wide. I wouldn't be stuck scrounging in Brockton Bay; I'd have free access to ghosts all over. Who knew who I'd meet? What problems I could help with? It was like a buffet of spirits.

"You're drooling." Allfather said.

"Am not!" I wiped my mouth as discretely as I could.

"So you'll think about it?" He said. "I know you had reservations about the Empire, and I think this settles most of them."

All those ghosts…

"I'll think about it." I said.

"Good. Now, there was something else I needed to talk to you about."

Allfather stepped back and drew his hand through the air. Space rippled as he pulled a weapon from nowhere.

"I wanted to save this for when we went after Shadow Stalker together, but as circumstances aren't leaning that way anymore, I'm going to give it to you now."

He held up the weapon to me. It was a knife, only about as long as my hand. The sheath was black, banded with metal. Set into the grip was a tiny silver eagle holding a swastika. I took the knife and drew it. The blade was double-edged, and inscribed on it was a phrase in German.

"A Nazi knife?" I said dryly.

"There's a story behind it." Allfather said. "It was my grandfather's."

"Your grandfather was a Nazi?"

That was something. That made Kaiser what- A fourth generation Nazi?

Allfather chuckled. "My grandfather brought that home from the Occupation. My father was the first white supremacist in our family. When I became a man, he passed the knife down to me. When Max was about your age, I took him out and he made his first kill with that knife. I'd hoped that you might do something similar with Shadow Stalker."

I gaped at him. "That is… the most _fucked-up_ thing ever, Allfather. I can't even begin to explain to you how messed up this conversation is."

"You don't like it?"

"I'm going to kill Sophia with it."

The level of fucked-up that we were at was exactly what she deserved.

Allfather reached out and closed my fingers over the knife, resting his hand on mine.

"I'm glad you're happy with it." He said.

"You're a Nazi sociopath, I have to take what I can get. But… thanks. It's fucked-up, but it's sweet."

I glanced out at the crowd. The speaker was leaving the podium.

"Showtime!" Krieg called to us.

Allfather undid his sword belt and threaded my knife onto it. I lifted my cloak as he synched the belt around my waist. His hands were gentle, sliding the belt into place with practiced ease. I was starved for human contact and I'd take what I could get, but the way Allfather was so careful with me was touching. It added an odd sort of intimacy to the act.

"Ready?" Allfather said, straightening up. I tugged on the belt. The knife was an unfamiliar weight at my waist.

"Ready." I said. I took his hand, and he stepped closer to me.

"Don't be nervous Taylor. You can do this. This is your moment; your debut." He squeezed my hand softly. "While I was thinking about our roles, I thought of something. Don't go out there as Empress. That's not you, and I was wrong to push you that way. I think I know your name now though."

Allfather leaned in and whispered a name in my ear.

My smile was all the confirmation he needed.

I let him dissolve. As he returned to my well, I repaired the damage done to his shard from losing his belt. And then I summoned another ghost.

Runechild appeared, holding her hood down against the wind.

"Let's get your Nazi on!" She shouted.

She seized my hand and we _moved_. I expected a rush of sound or maybe a void, but when we teleported, we simply _were_ elsewhere. Runechild had teleported us to the bottom of the PHQ steps.

The crowd around me fell back as I stood. A wave of noise swept through them; voices rising suddenly in surprise or fear or awe. I straightened my cloak and focused solely on what I had to do. I had to give a speech. I wasn't nervous, because I didn't have nerves. Right.

I walked calmly and deliberately up the PHQ steps. The BBPD officers were murmuring into their radios, but none of them made a move to stop me. Runechild vanished with a whispered "good luck," and Allfather reappeared. He surveyed the crowd before falling into step behind me. I stopped halfway up the stairs. With a thought, I called Michael to stand at the podium. He would be my voice.

"Do it here." Allfather whispered. "Don't hide behind the podium. Speak to them from here. Michael can use the microphone."

I turned and faced the crowd; staring at them for a long moment. Hundreds of faces stared back. The entire street had gone suddenly silent. Flashbulbs ignited here and there. Television cameras angled to get a better shot. All eyes were on me. The _world's_ eyes were on me.

Allfather whispered to me again. "Be proud and strong like you know you can be. Awe them."

I took a deep, meaningless breath, and then spread my arms.

"Ladies and gentlemen of Brockton Bay, I am Valkyrie."

Gallant suffered in silence. The crowd's noise was muted inside PHQ, but its mental noise was deafening. He was as far from the window as he could get and still be in the conference room, but a haze of emotion drifted off the crowd; like light pollution lighting up the clouds above a city. They were so emotional that he could _see_ it. The effect was nauseating. Fear-blue blending with orangered-rage and anger, interspersed with patches of joy-green.

He wanted to say something, but he knew that it would be inappropriate. He knew by looking that the others were under just as much pressure as he was. The room was filled to capacity; all the Protectorate members were there, and the Wards as well. Every one of them wore some variation on stress or Piggot glowed a healthy stress-gray, streaked through with dark lines of pain, all simmering in a deep burgundy of disgust.

"This is one of the _worst_ possible scenarios." Piggot said. She gave no outer sign of what she was feeling; continuing the meeting like they were discussing standard regulations.

"I'm not going to mince words with you all. There's a very good chance that I, Armsmaster and Miss Militia will all be out of a job when this is over."

Armsmaster's anger-red flared into life, but he only nodded at Piggot's words. Miss Militia was silent as well, staring down at the protesters through the window. Her emotions were raging; burning red, but undercut with white for righteous anger.

"The only possible way to salvage something from this whole mess is if we catch Shadow Stalker. Wards, I'm including you in this. We need to be the ones to clean house. If we bring her in, we might have a shot. We've got to show the world that she was an outlier; that we are heroes."

"What's the plan?" Aegis said. Clockblocker nodded soberly.

"Quick and fast." Piggot said. "She crossed a line and now we've got to hit her like the hammer of God. Before the villains do."

"Christ." Kid Win muttered. "We'd be a laughing stock."

Piggot looked at Kid Win. "Not just us. The entire Protectorate's reputation will take a hit. The press would crucify us."

Gallant could imagine without any difficulty what would happen. Piggot would be fired, they'd lose both senior Protectorate capes, and their entire branch would fall apart. And beyond that? If they got shown up by villains; the entire country would _know_ that the Protectorate was too incompetent to police itself. That the villains were doing a better job at it than they were. Crucify was a polite way of putting it.

 _"How many of us will still be here when this is over?"_ He thought.

"We know Shadow Stalker. We know what she's like; how she operates. She won't be able to stay off the radar for long. Especially if she's traveling with that civilian girl." Piggot said.

Miss Militia spoke up from the window. "Emma Barnes. She'll limit what Sophia can do. And it adds another person for us to get to Sophia through."

"Dragon is monitoring for anything that might tie back to Shadow Stalker." Armsmaster contributed. "They're probably hitching or using cash, because we haven't found them yet. I've got several predicted routes for where they might go. I'll forward them to each of you after the meeting. In the meantime we need to…" Armsmaster trailed off suddenly, looking up.

Gallant looked up at the same instant. The crowd noise had suddenly gone off like fireworks; blazing into a riot of yellow-fear and teal-shock. He stumbled to the window, dizzy with the sheer force of what they were feeling.

Far below, a single figure in red faced the crowd.

"Tv cameras just picked up something at the rally!" Armsmaster shouted. He tapped a button on his gauntlet, and the conference room's display screen flashed on. The entire room stared at the news footage.

" _-come to talk to you about Shadow Stalker. Or as you know her, Sophia Hess. But I'm here to talk to you about someone more important. Who you're all here for. Taylor Hebert._ "

The figure on the screen was swathed in bloody rags, backed by a huge man in armor and a cloudy thing that Gallant thought was a man. The man-thing spoke into the microphone, but the figure- a woman judging by the dress, gestured like she was the one speaking.

" _I speak with the dead. Dead parahumans to be specific. And I tell you this- Taylor Hebert died a parahuman! It was why she was murdered. Shadow Stalker was eliminating a rival- breaking the unspoken laws that govern all parahumans to_ murder _an innocent girl!_ "

"Oh shit." Clockblocker said quietly. "What the hell is that? And- geez! What's with that _voice_?!"

Gallant agreed with him wholeheartedly. The speaker's voice- whether the man's or the cloaked woman's, was awful. Like a chorus speaking in unison; voices echoing out of the depths of a crypt.

"An unknown cape." Armsmaster said. "The other one… Allfather again?"

"From when Skidmark died." Battery said, not looking away from the tv.

Armsmaster nodded. "The one I thought was a projection. But there're more of them now. Gallant, what do you see off them?"

He squinted, looking out the window. It was like staring into the sun.

"The woman is… angry, nervous, excited. The armored man- Allfather? He's elated. The third one doesn't register."

"Two capes and a projection then." Armsmaster said. He rose from his chair, drawing his halberd. "All of us together. We've got one wanted villain and one person of interest."

"No!" Miss Militia barked. "We can't go down there. They're here to protest us. If we step in to arrest those speakers, the whole crowd will rise up against us. Do you want to incite a riot, Armsmaster?"

"Miss Militia is right." Piggot said. "Hold positions here. When they leave, we follow. We don't need an audience for this."

Gallant slumped against the window. Below, the little figure kept on speaking.

" _-we must rise up and unite in the face of this atrocity! Let the world know that we will not tolerate so-called heroes that kill. I promise you-_ "

" _-that I will not rest until the murderer known as Shadow Stalker is-_ "

Whiskey pooled into the carpet where the bottle had fallen from her nerveless fingers. The room was filled with many other similar bottles, all empty.

Setsuna barely noticed. She sat on the bed, staring unseeingly at the television.

"It couldn't be." She whispered. "It's not possible."

It had only been a glimpse. The camera had swung around to catch the newcomer cape and Setsuna had seen. The girl was standing next to Valkyrie for only an instant before she vanished.

But she knew that stupid cape and frilled shirt better than she knew her own face. She knew because she saw the cape every time she let the dreams come. Knew it well enough to draw it; to sketch out every little spot of blood and viscera that stained it.

"Impossible."

Wait. Lung had gotten her a television attachment. She could rewind it. But where was…

She _moved_. In a heartbeat, she stood on the other side of the room. Behind her, her iterations tore the room apart to find the remote. They had only the briefest moments of life, but there were enough of them to be thorough.

Iteration 36 waved victoriously as she spotted the remote sitting under a box of moldy takeout. Setsuna staggered across to where 36 had been. She was just getting into staggering-drunk, but she wasn't feeling the buzz anymore. The news had cut through that like a silver bullet.

The television blooped as she rewound the news. Figures moved in rapid reverse motions until she found the right spot.

The camera spun wildly and focused in on the cape. Red-white, clothed in rags. Setsuna _moved_ back to the bed, still staring at the tv. The rag-girl was odd- like one of her iterations. Spectral, but scrawny, black-haired, unimportant. Setsuna only cared for the other girl in the video.

" _There._ " She hissed. The rag-girl strode forward and Setsuna saw the other girl clearly. That goddamned frilly shirt and cloak combo. Her useless domino mask. The way she grinned crookedly when she was nervous.

Setsuna found herself reaching for the hilt of a sword she didn't have. She _moved_ to the door, and her iterations spoke as one. Spoke the name of a dead girl. A girl she'd killed years ago.

"Noriko."

" _-there can be only death for her crimes. I say this- I have spoken with Taylor Hebert. Her last wish for this world was to protect her father. And where is_ he _?! Comatose, because of Shadow Stalker! I swore to Taylor that I -_ "

She had her hands pressed to her mouth. The blood-cloaked figure was new, but she knew the man in armor well. Allfather. And if this girl was associated with Allfather, then she had to be…

"Oh my god. It's her." Amy said.

"It's who?" Victoria said. She was sprawled across the floor, flipping through a magazine.

"The girl from the hospital. The Empress." Amy said numbly.

Carol looked up from her book. She glanced at the tv and then back at Amy. Her glare was piercing; her suspicion naked.

"What did you _do_ , Amy?"

"- _uphold her will; that I would bring peace to the dead. I will right this wrong-_ "

Sophia kept one hand laced through Emma's hair, but the other mashed the volume button on the remote. The shitty motel tv was too quiet.

"'s too loud." Emma murmured sleepily from across her lap. "Soph…"

On screen, the cape called for her death. Called it a crusade. Sophia's grin was almost feral. She shifted, slipping out from under Emma and leaving the bed. She only meant to get closer, but when she shifted, the screen changed. All the color was bleached away in her shadow state, but she'd never seen a change like this.

The cape on screen was a different person when Sophia used her powers. She shifted again, and the cape changed as well. It was like she suddenly came into focus and-

"Hebert." Sophia snarled. "God. Damn. _Hebert_."

For once, something quenched her anger. A new feeling; the joy of the hunt. Hebert was after her?

"Come and get me, you little bitch."

-

" _-then and only then will Taylor Hebert be able to rest in peace._ " She paused. " _Thank you._ "

Valkyrie looked to be waiting until the thunderous applause cleared, but it didn't stop. The crowd just kept cheering. They weren't happy or triumphant. Vicious hate was written large on every face the camera passed over. They wanted blood. They wanted Shadow Stalker's blood.

Finally, Valkyrie bowed to the crowd, and descended the stairs. The crowd parted in front of her like the Red Sea. She walked with slow, even strides. The man in armor moved to be alongside her. He bent slightly so that he could speak to her as they walked.

Max knew that walk anywhere. That cocky, self-assured walk that he deliberately imitated as Kaiser. He set down his pen, his paperwork forgotten.

It could be a Master. Some kind of illusion. Maybe a Tinker hologram. But he knew that it wasn't. Because he recognized that walk; had seen that walk for many, _many_ years.

"Father."

His voice echoed through his cavernous office.

And then Max Anders laughed.

He laughed until it hurt.

SPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAK

Yeesh. This chapter was really cool when it came out, but is really embarrassing now. I had no idea where I was going with this shit. A lot of it is really cringeworthy and unrealistic now. Stuff like the Wards and the rally were plotpoints I threw in but had no idea what to use them for.

I did really enjoy finally getting to drop Taylor's cape name. We also get the first appearance of Black Kaze, who got namedropped in Browbeat's chapter, and finally shows up. Her inclusion was a complete whim. I threw her into Browbeat's chapter just for fun, and she stuck around.

There's a noticeable continuity error here in Sophia's segment- she sees Taylor with her powers, even though it's on tv and that makes no sense. The tv doesn't broadcast in extra-dimensional wavelengths, so there's no way to see her. It needed to stay in as foreshadowing for capes who could see through Taylor's powers, but it's a definite error.


	17. 1-17

1.17

The crowd parted around me as I walked. The street was packed enough that I let Michael fade away, leaving only Allfather trailing behind me. Everyone was looking at me. Some still cheered or applauded. Many raised their fists as I passed. A hundred voices spoke at once; running over each other into a wall of solid sound.

"Valkyrie!"

"That was kickass!"

"Heil!"

"Freak!"

"Empire!"

"Show the Protectorate who's boss!"

"What are your powers?"

"Kill that nigger bitch!"

I stopped. The speaker was a burly man with a shaved head. He had a little boy cradled in one arm. He nodded respectfully to me when I looked at him.

"It's about time someone got rid of that nigger. You're doing God's work, Valkyrie." He nudged the boy. "Wave to Valkyrie, Alden."

Alden, who was probably no older than two, waved dutifully.

What was I supposed to do here?

I stared at him for a long moment. Finally, Allfather put a hand on my shoulder.

"She's a little shy." He shook hands with the man. "Good to see there're still men who know the value of fatherhood in the Empire."

The man looked like he'd just been crowned King of the World.

"Th-thank you, uh- sir."

"Can we go?" I said to Allfather.

"Valkyrie says thank you. I'm Allfather by the way." Allfather said. He took my arm and we continued on through the crowd.

I knew intellectually that I was involving myself with people like that, but to actually meet one was… Did I really want this? Was I that selfish? Even without joining the Empire, I was still going to be allying myself with Neo-Nazis. Fucking _Nazis._ You didn't get any more evil than that.

"We can go now." Allfather said quietly. He'd shaken hands with half the people we'd passed, and seemed to be treating the whole thing like a party.

I returned Allfather and called Runechild. She winced at the rush of sound that she appeared in.

"Cmon, let's get outta here before one of these skinheads whacks me with a brick."

She grabbed my arm and we _moved_. In an instant, we stood atop the building I'd been on earlier. The cheering fell to a dull roar below us. Runechild picked up her runecard and pocketed it.

"Back to the hideout?" She asked.

"Yes. …no." I hesitated. What was I feeling? Giving the speech had been exciting. Leading the crowd; having everyone hanging off my every word was... just wow. I'd spent two years being basically ignored by everyone except to get bullied. After that- the attention I'd gotten when I spoke was intoxicating.

But on the other hand, actually meeting the people in the crowd had killed my mood. What had Allfather said about our contract? Something about it being a 'deal with the devil.' I thought I knew how he felt in that moment. I was selling my morals out of greed.

"Let's go back." I said. I'd just end up ruminating if we went back to the warehouse, but I also didn't want to be around people for a while.

"Alrighty." Runechild adjusted her mask, looking uncomfortable. "Hey… Taylor? Valkyrie. You uh… I know you said you're not Empire, but that rally was sorta… Empire-ish."

"I know." I said. "It's complicated."

"Didn't you say you wanted to be a hero?" She started to wrap herself in her cloak, but then caught herself. "I just- I've seen people get caught up in bad stuff before."

"Your sister?" I guessed.

"Yeah. She joined the ABB after we came to America. I knew she was running with gangsters, but I didn't think she'd ever…" Runechild trailed off. "Forget it."

PHQ's windows caught the afternoon sun like giant mirrors, and Runechild's shadow was long across the roof. Mine was more insubstantial; only the shadow of my clothing.

"Thanks for looking out for me, Noriko." I said. "You heard what Allfather said before the rally, right?"

She nodded, and I continued. "It's all… shit, it's complicated. I don't know how many ghosts I need to come back, and I'm worried about Dad, and I'm furious at Emma and Sophia, and it's… it's overwhelming. Allfather has my back for now, but he won't be around forever, and if I could get some support from Krieg, it'd make everything a lot easier."

I left out that I had no idea what I was doing. That I was scared shitless over Dad, and I had to keep reassuring myself that he'd wake up someday. How I'd latched on to Allfather because I needed help badly, and he was there. That coming back to life seemed more and more like a pipe dream, because nothing ever went right for me.

"What about the Protectorate?" Runechild said. "They're heroes, but you rallied against them."

"They let Sophia run free. I knew her for two years, and if they didn't catch on to what a psycho she was, then they just didn't care. I- how would you feel if no one ever avenged your death, Noriko? Your killer just went on with their life and nobody cared about you enough to take an interest. That's how I feel about what the Protectorate did."

Runechild looked suddenly furious. "You know who killed me, Taylor? My _sister_. And I didn't wish for revenge. I wished to find her. Because I want to see that Setsuna got help and d-didn't stay b-bad."

She sniffled, and before I could say anything, she was in tears. I cringed; her moods were like a flip of a switch.

"B-because real heroes d-don't take revenge! They help people!"

Nothing like a tearful twelve-year old to make you feel like a giant asshole.

"I'm sorry, Noriko." I looked down at my hands. The fabric across my palm was stained like a starburst of blood. "I just can't. I can't let this go. They took everything from me, and I've got a chance to _finally_ get even. I'm going to be a hero, but this comes first. I've _got_ to finish this."

She pulled her hood down low so I couldn't see her face, but she was still crying.

"Did your sister really...?"

Runechild nodded jerkily.

I didn't even think about it; I just acted. Our cloaks brushed together as I knelt and pulled her into a hug. Runechild went stiff, but then folded against me, shaking with grief.

All I could think about while I held her was what she'd said. How could she just forgive like that? How did she just let it go? And beyond that- what kind of monster would hurt someone like Runechild? She was a geeky little wannabe hero; not a threat to anyone or anything. And her sister, of all people, had still…

A fucking twelve-year old.

A _child_.

Runechild might be ready to forgive her killer, but I wasn't. And when we ran into this sister of hers, I was going to have something to say about it.

By the time she finished, the sun was edging the horizon and the sky was the variegated blend of twilight. The street below was mostly deserted now. A few straggling protestors hung around, but the mob from before was gone. A chilly wind picked up and we both shivered. Funny how instinct worked. Neither of us really felt the cold, but we shivered anyway.

Runechild spoke into my chest, her voice muffled.

"Thanks."

"It's okay."

"You remind me of her." Runechild said. "When she was still nice." She hugged me a little tighter and then broke away.

"Let's go home." I said.

Runechild raised an eyebrow at me.

"I meant the warehouse. Not home."

She shrugged; still looking glum, and headed for Krieg.

Krieg was sitting down, reading something on his phone. He stood and stretched as we approached. Runechild situated herself a few feet away and started organizing her runecards. I called Michael so Krieg and I could talk.

"All done?" Krieg said. "Thought we might end up camping out up here."

"We're ready." I said. "Was there anything else before we go?"

Krieg smiled broadly. "Taylor, I have to say that watching you out there today was worth the show. I don't think Iron Rain could have done better herself."

"Thanks?"

"I should be the one thanking you. Fate smiled on me the day Allfather met you." Krieg put his phone away. "Get some rest at the warehouse. You're going to need your strength tomorrow."

"More rally stuff?"

"Better." Krieg's smile turned hard. "You're meeting Kaiser to issue Allfather's challenge. You and Richard are going to gatecrash."

Runechild teleported us back to the warehouse. It was far enough away that we had to bounce across the city on a line of runecards she'd set up beforehand. I still found it a little disconcerting to teleport, but Krieg had it worse. When we made it back, he had to step aside and wait for the room to stop spinning. I guess it was like carsickness or getting sea sick- it affected everyone differently.

The warehouse was the same old grubby building, but I was glad to be back. Having a place to call home was reassuring. I still had my house, but I just didn't feel comfortable staying there when Dad was in the hospital. It felt too much like I was haunting the place.

Runechild trudged over to the couch and fell into it. I stayed with Krieg and called Allfather. He appeared, and I had the briefest flash of steel and leather before I found myself hoisted into the air. Allfather held me by the waist and spun me around like I was a little girl.

"You were amazing out there!" He bellowed.

The hug that followed was so tight that my feet didn't touch the ground.

"Yuw gweat toow, but toow tight." I said, my face mushed against his chest.

He got the message and set me down.

"Sorry, but there's nothing like a good speech to fire the blood!" Allfather was well past excited. His hands twitched like he wanted to give me another hug, but thought better of it.

"I… I couldn't have done it without you. It's just… I don't know, Allfather." I looked down at my ragged costume. "It was exciting, but I feel like… I feel like I sold my soul or something."

Allfather went still. "Ah." He looked like he was thinking. Krieg tapped his watch at Allfather, but I waited for him to speak.

Finally, Allfather said, "It's a big decision, Taylor. I know that you've got some reservations, but this is an excellent opportunity to make some very powerful connections. What's best right now might just be to sleep on it."

Krieg cleared his throat. "We're speaking about Miss Hebert joining the Empire, correct?"

Oh right. Krieg couldn't hear me. It had to be awkward for him to watch Allfather have a conversation that he could only hear the half of. Once more, I called Michael to speak.

"Yeah." I said. "Allfather thought I should be more like a partner."

"An ally," Allfather said. "Something that would let her align with the Empire, without joining."

Krieg hmm-ed. "I see. I understand that you're not exactly keen on joining. While it may not be in my best interests to suggest it, have you considered operating as an independent? Are you familiar with Faultline's Crew? They're parahuman mercenaries. You could offer your services to other groups in the same way that you will to the Empire."

I stared at him. "You're agreeing with Allfather even though it means I won't join?"

"If you're as reluctant as I think you are, it wouldn't work out in the long run. Your heart wouldn't be in it and you'd end up miserable. I'd rather have a happy ally than an unhappy minion." Krieg said matter-of-factly. "Allfather's suggestion is a sound alternative. As long as you're still willing to render your services to us, I'm fine with supplying you with what you need."

"No one's going to hire a cape who hangs out with the Empire." I said.

"I think you might be mistaken, Miss Hebert." Krieg said. "You've got a one-of-a-kind skill to offer. You're going to be pleasantly surprised, I think, to see just who wants your help."

"Exactly." Allfather said. "Look at the girl in the hospital, Panacea. She was scared to death of us, and she was still tempted when she heard what you can do. And what did you just announce at the rally?"

I tried hard to think of what I'd said. A lot of stuff. Most of it related to killing Sophia.

"Uhh…"

"You told them that your power was to speak with the dead." Allfather said. "That's free advertising. People will come to you, so don't burn your bridge with the Empire, but also don't be afraid to build new ones."

"Right… I'll think about it." I said noncommittally.

Probably for the rest of the day, and all night.

We said our goodbyes and Krieg headed for the door. Allfather hung back with me.

"I'm proud of you. It took a lot of bravery to stand up in front of that crowd." He put a hand on my shoulder. "You're worth more than you know, Taylor."

"Thanks. I'm just…" I trailed off. Frustration played openly across my face.

"I know you're worried about this, and what it means for you." He leaned in and whispered in my ear. "Ask yourself what revenge is worth, and I think you'll have your answer."

And with that, he was gone. I stayed standing there after he left, staring blankly at the door.

Krieg's suggestion kept playing through my mind, blending with Allfather's words. Was it really that easy? Rather than selling out to the Empire, I could sell my skills as an independent. It sounded too good to be true. I'd be able to score ghosts from all different factions, without getting too close to anyone.

But at the heart of the matter was still the Empire. Not just them though. There were all kinds of villains out there who might want to work with me. And who knew what my ghosts might wish for. Allfather asked me if it was worth it. Was it worth compromising my morals to come back? I'd be letting greed drive my actions; my desire for ghosts and life overpowering any aspirations to heroism I might have.

I'd led a hate rally today just to spite the Protectorate. And that was just petty revenge. I wanted to live even more than I wanted revenge. I wanted to see Dad even more than that. If I was willing to go that far for revenge, how far would I go for Dad? Would I be able to look him in the eye when this was over?

Would I be able to call myself a hero? Could I, when I was balancing the scales between helping ghosts find peace, but at the same time allying myself with the worst of humanity?

Fuck. Thinking about it gave me a headache and made me feel like an awful person.

With that, I headed for the couch.

Runechild didn't move as I sat down.

"Did you hear all that?" I asked.

She answered without enthusiasm, her eyes still fixed on the tv. "You're not joining."

"Yeah. We're going to be allied though."

"Seems that way." She said.

"Are you..." I stopped myself. That was a stupid question. Of course she wasn't okay. "Tomorrow morning, do you want to go look for your sister? Before we do anything with Allfather?"

Runechild sat up a little. With two fingers, she pulled her domino mask off. A set of tired brown eyes looked back at me. There was something unpleasantly… adult in her gaze. As though she'd seen too much.

"If you think it's the right time, Taylor."

"It's your contract."

"I don't know." She rubbed the bridge of her nose; looking more haggard than I'd ever seen her. "It's… I'm scared. I want to know what happened to Setsuna, but I'm also afraid of what I might find."

"You're worried about her being dead?" She winced. We both knew there was a silent 'like you?' on the end of that question.

"Yes and no. I don't think anything could ever kill her. I mean, she lived through Leviathan when I was just a kid. But… I mean, anyone can die."

This time, I was the one who flinched. Dad might die. Might be dead at this very moment.

"Sorry." Runechild said quietly. "No it's… what I'm worried about is if she's not dead. Worried about what she might be like."

"You said she went bad earlier."

Runechild nodded. "I didn't ever- you don't expect someone you know to… I mean, she _raised me_ Taylor! She wasn't just my big sister, she was my whole family. I thought… when it came down to it, we'd always have each other, and we'd n-never b-be apart."

She was getting teary by the end of it.

Should I hug her again? What did she need right now?

"I… just forget it, Taylor. It's my problem, not yours." She said heavily. "You've got enough going on without me being a burden."

Something about that sounded familiar. What did it… Oh.

"You're not." I said.

Runechild looked at me. "What?"

"You're _not_ a burden. Look, I know how you feel."

"No you-"

I cut her off. "I do. Because I felt the same way about my Dad. I never told him anything because I didn't want to burden him. And that was wrong, Noriko. I didn't realize it until I couldn't see him anymore, but he needed to know. Maybe-"

The realization hit me like a ton of bricks.

"Maybe if I'd told him more, he wouldn't have taken it so hard when I died."

Runechild's eyes were wide; her fingers balled up in her cape.

She looked how I felt. Like she'd just gotten sucker-punched.

"I shouldn't… I shouldn't talk down to you, Noriko, because I'm just as fucked up."

She stared at me for a long moment. And then, unexpectedly, she began to giggle.

"You just said I'm effed-up. You're really not good at cheering people up, are you?"

My face heated. "Sorry. That's not what I meant."

"It's true though. We're both weirdos."

"You're not. And you're not a burden, and you shouldn't feel bad for whatever happened to Setsuna or Detective Wickman."

"Like you shouldn't feel bad for your dad?" She replied.

"That's different."

"Bull." Runechild said. She paused, her expression growing somber again. "You really think she's okay?"

"I hope so." I said.

I sincerely did. I still wanted answers from Setsuna. What kind of sister raised Noriko and then turned around and murdered her?

"Tomorrow morning then?" Runechild said tentatively. "You still want to, right?"  
"Got any ideas?"

"She was in the ABB. Are they still around?"

"Yeah."

"There we go then."

As if that settled it, she flopped over and returned her attention to the tv. She seemed much more at ease now. I couldn't say I felt the same.

The Empire and the ABB.

Tomorrow.

Wonders never ceased.

SPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAK

Elsewhere

Setsuna knocked twice before entering. No answer came, but she entered the apartment anyway.

"Lung!"

Her voice carried through the empty living room. Lung's apartment was the penthouse in one of the few nice complexes in the Docks. It took up the entire floor, and the living room alone dwarfed her puny apartment.

Lung's tastes tended toward Spartan. Beyond the basic ensemble of furniture- tables, chairs, tv, La-Z-Boy; the only decoration was a small framed photo of Lung and a tiny Asian woman. His mother, probably. Setsuna tried not to look at the photo. Too many unpleasant things came to mind. The fact that she couldn't remember her parents' faces was one.

She paused inside the door to remove her shoes. Lung might not mind, but it was a custom she liked. It was one thing to mess up her own place, messing up someone else's was just rude.

She took a single step and then _moved_ to the bedroom door. Her iterations filled the intervening space. Some looked around, others screamed silently; their lips mouthing Noriko's name. She only stared ahead, her face impassive. The noises emanating from the bedroom told her where she needed to go.

Setsuna reached for the door, hesitated, and then knocked.

A loud, hoarse voice yelled at her through the door. "Bakuda! What did I tell you about disturbing me?!"

"Lung, it's me." She called.

"Fuck off, Kaze!" Lung barked.

"I need my sword."

There was silence for a moment, and then heavy footsteps rattled the door in its frame. It swung open and Lung filled the space. He was completely naked. Behind him, Setsuna could see a woman hastily covering herself with bed sheets.

" _What_?" Lung said. He managed to contain a lifetime of threats into the word.

"I need my sword." She repeated.

Lung raised his eyebrows. He made no effort to conceal himself as he stood there. Setsuna looked determinedly at the ceiling. She'd seen Lung naked many times, but it was impolite to look this time.

"You interrupted me for your fucking sword?"

"I have business to take care of and I need my sword."

Lung sniffed the air. "Are you… sober?"

"For the moment."

He stepped closer, blocking her view of anything else. He was so tall that her face was level with his sternum. She kept her eyes fixed straight ahead, tracing the sinuous lines of his tattoos. His muscles did interesting things to the dragons.

"Explain." He ordered.

"Valkyrie was on tv, and she has Noriko."

Lung blinked, squinting his red eyes at her. "Your sister? Kaze, she died years ago."

Guilt flared in her belly. Her hand twitched convulsively; the muscles still remembering that night.

"I _killed_ her years ago." She said firmly.

"Lung, come back to bed." The woman in bed whined. Both of them turned to look at her. Setsuna could hardly believe her. What kind of idiot interrupted Lung? How dare she interrupt _her?_

One step forward would be all it took. She could _move_ and drive her fingers through the woman's eyes. Or even better- enough iterations could peel back her skin and go for the heart. She could bathe in her blood, celebrate with whiskey, and then find Noriko. Lung wouldn't mind. He would understand- he would allow it if she just-

 _Too much_.

Setsuna flickered in place. Her iterations moved inside her; a hundred bodies occupying the same spot. She took a deep breath and forced all her emotions into them. Hate and rage and and despair poured across their connection like blood in spreading into water. She colored them with her feelings. Only guilt remained; the only thing she would allow to remain.

The iterations shuddered as she filled them. Some burst into silent tears, others shrieked with fury, stretching out their phantom hands toward Lung and the woman. Most only stared forward, their eyes as empty as her own.

After a moment, they vanished, taking her sentiment with them. Calm returned to her in easy waves, like frost creeping over grass.

"Shall I?" She said. Her voice was even. She wasn't amped up, but she wasn't going to say no to a chance if Lung would let her.

"No." Lung said. "I will discipline her after you leave."

He stomped over to the closet. He reached in, searching behind his rows of shirts for something. Setsuna wondered why Lung had a closet full of shirts. She'd never actually seen him wear one.

He spoke as he searched. "It's fortunate that you showed up anyway. We'll be making our attack against the Empire in a day or two. I was planning to call you so you could sober up beforehand."

She couldn't be anything but sober after seeing Noriko. Nothing quenched that level of guilt.

"Now- you will…" He withdrew his hand, holding a sword. Her sword. "You will take this sword, and you will wait. Lee is not here yet, and you need to meet the new girl. We're discussing our plans."

Impatient rage welled up in her. How could he delay her now? Not now- not when she was so close to the end.

Her hands knew the motions. A step and a _move_ , and she could do to Lung what she'd planned to do to the girl.

"Lung, I need to-"

"You will _wait_." He said. His tone brooked no argument.

She stared at him for a long moment, took a deep breath, and then nodded.

"I will wait."

She didn't wait for him to approach. She _moved_ forward, her hands mixing with her iterations as they reached as one for the sword. Lung let her take it, chuckling under his breath at her naked desire.

Setsuna touched every inch of it, loving the lacquered smoothness of the sheath under her fingers. They traced up, past the _tsuba_ to the handle. The wrapping was still worn to the shape of her hand. She knew it as intimately as she knew her own body. Every draw- every time her iterations had wielded it was burned into her mind. A hundred million repetitions in one.

"I've missed you." She whispered.  
"Good. Now get out." Lung said. He shoved her out the door and slammed it behind her.

Setsuna barely noticed. Now that she was alone…

She drew only an inch of the blade. Her blurry reflection looked back at her from amid spots of rust. She needed to clean it. Only… what was the point? What did it matter if her blade was a little rusty? She only had one more kill to make, and then things could finally be right.

There was a certain sense of poetry in going into her final battle with a rusted blade. A ruined blade for a ruined woman. She allowed herself a small smile at that.

Lung had told her to wait.

But Noriko was still out there.

Noriko, who should have been 17 this year.

Noriko, whom she'd failed.

Noriko, who she still saw screaming in her dreams.

Noriko, her sister.

Noriko.

It took only a second to make her choice. She opened Lung's liquor cabinet, grabbed the priciest looking bottle, and then _moved_ to the window. Her iterations stood quietly behind her, each clutching their sword to their chests.

The night air whipped her hair back as she opened the window. She leaned out, savoring the moment. It occurred to her that she felt oddly light. She felt _good_ for once. It was… acceptance. The freedom of resignation.

The end was coming.

With a thought, she was gone into the night, carrying with her a sword, a bottle, and a new, wonderful feeling.

She allowed herself to feel it.

SPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAK

This chapter got rewritten after its original posting. The second half originally had Taylor and Runechild running out to fight crime and running into an indie cape called Sledgehammer. It was messy and confusing and didn't fit, so it got replaced with Black Kaze's bit.

This is noticeable for being the chapter that was so bad it made me start using a beta.

More, very noticeable, very cringeworthy now, issues with Taylor's character and motivation. I really hate how lazy I was about writing her, and how I never figured out her personality until the story was over.


	18. 1-18

1.18

"This is a terrible idea." Krieg said.

We hit a stoplight and he turned around in his seat to glare at us. I was reminded uncomfortably of getting yelled at by Dad when I was a little kid. As it was, being sandwiched between Michael and Runechild in the backseat was awkward enough.

"We'll be fine." I said through Michael. "We're going to look for a few hours, and then we'll head back."

Krieg's frown deepened. "Now is not the time, Taylor. I'm trying to put together a game plan for tonight, and you're running off to chase Chinese ghosts."

"I'm Japanese, jerk." Runechild muttered. "And my sister is not dead."

"You don't know that." He said. "You don't know a damn thing. This is a wild goose chase and I don't appreciate it."

The light turned green and Krieg stopped talking for a moment. Once we were safely through the busy intersection, he continued.

"My life is on the line here, Taylor." The leather of the steering wheel creaked as he tightened his grip on it. "You understand that, right? If anyone finds out that I'm backing Allfather, I'm dead."

"I promised Noriko that I'd help her look. We can afford to spend a few hours on that. I mean- it's not like you need me until later, right?" I said.

"Yeah," Runechild seconded. "We were just going to lay around all day anyway. I want to find Setsu."

Krieg grumbled what sounded like curses under his breath as he wove through a thick line of traffic. We were headed into the Docks, and I could already see the buildings changing. They got older, but also less nice as we went. Krieg's neighborhood was on a whole different social layer than these homes.

"It's not like I have better things to do than play carpool. I'm only about to stage a takeover of the most prominent white supremacist group in America, no big deal." Krieg said sarcastically.

"How much work could it be for you?" I countered. "Allfather is doing all the work. It's not like you're the one who has to fight Kaiser."

"I'm the one who's got to pick up the pieces afterwards. Do you have any idea of what the average cape is like? They're lunatics. I've got to keep the gang together and stop them from going berserk when Kaiser dies."

An uneasy silence fell over the car as Krieg navigated through a construction zone. It was something to wonder about though. With the exception of Michael, all the capes I'd met so far had been a little cracked. It was going to be a strange run as a ghost if everyone I met was as unbalanced as Skidmark or Allfather. Granted, I liked Allfather a lot, but he was still a nutjob.

Where did that leave me? I was a cape too. Was my revenge complex really any different from Allfather's? Was I just as crazy; just as damaged as my ghosts were?

"Turn right here and it's a couple blocks down." Runechild said. She motioned toward a side street and Krieg turned.

Michael tugged on my sleeve. When I looked over, he pointed excitedly out the window at a woman walking her dogs. Even after we passed her, Michael turned in his seat to watch.

"Maybe if you're lucky, there's a dog ghost out there." I said.

He smiled at me, and I was suddenly glad that he was mine.

"Please, Taylor. Just try to be back as soon as you can." Krieg said. "Allfather would agree with me. We can't have anything go wrong-"

His phone rang. The tinny little jingle filled the car. Krieg steered briefly with his knees while he fished around in his pocket for the phone.

Runechild and I sat quietly as he talked. After a bit, she nudged me and pointed at a restaurant as we passed it. I could tell that we were getting into the Docks proper now. The restaurant's sign was written all in Hangul, and there were a couple old men playing Go at the table out front.

"Setsu worked there for a month before she joined the ABB. They've got great chicken." Her smile faded slightly. "Or… they did."

"We could stop there later." I said. "It might be fun."

Runechild shook her head. "Too many memories. Just being on this side of town is weird. Like… it was like I was just here yesterday, and everything has changed."

She pointed at the burnt out husk of another building. "Mr. Kenta lived there. Setsu invited him over for dinner a couple times, so he had us over too. And… there- that's the park where I practiced teleporting at night. Hee Young lived on that street. She was my first friend here and-"

Krieg swore explosively, and we both jumped.

"What the _fuck_ do you mean 'all of them?!' Who? The Protectorate? No- not the Protectorate, moron. You think they'd kill everyone? Christ. You- just- just get everything you can carry, and head over to the storehouse on 15th and Maple. You know where that is? No- I don't care, just do it!"

He hung up and tossed the phone into the passenger seat. Then he pulled into an empty lot. It looked like we were behind an abandoned store.  
"You need to get out here. I've got to go clean up a mess."

"What happened?" I said.

Krieg rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I don't even know. That was one of my lieutenants. Apparently someone hit one of our storehouses. Said it was a bloodbath." He snorted. "Right. The ABB haven't made their move yet, and word is that they're still not ready, the Merchants are gone, and this isn't the Protectorate's style. Unless the Slaughterhouse Nine are in town, the stupid bastard is probably just high. But I've still got to go see. My cover depends on it."

"You want us to take a bus back?"

"I could teleport us." Runechild suggested. "I need to set up cards to this part of town anyway."

"That works." Krieg opened his glove box. "Take this just in case."

He handed me a cell phone. It was an odd weight in my hand. I hadn't used a cell phone in years, and nothing like this little smart phone.

"That's a burner. My number is in there. Call me if you need a ride."

Runechild took the phone from me and slipped it into a pocket on her utility belt. We got out of the car and waited as Krieg turned the car around. As he passed us, he rolled down the window.

"Taylor, if anything- _anything_ happens to delay you, call me." He looked coolly at Runechild. "You… don't ruin this for me."

Runechild glared back.

"What a shame that would be. Because I'm _so_ worried about your Empire."

Krieg sneered at her. The expression turned his paternal features into something ugly; almost vicious.

"Then let me make this clear to you, chink. Blow my shot at the top, and we'll see if you can't die again."

With that, he tore out of the parking lot and down the street. Runechild scowled at the car until it was out of sight. There were spots of color high in her cheeks and her usual smile was nowhere to be seen.

"Sorry." I said. "He shouldn't have said that."

"Don't. Just don't, Taylor." Runechild snapped. "It's the same stupid crap I put up with when I was alive. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of _them_!"

She turned and stomped off across the parking lot, and I hurried to catch up. I let Michael fade away. Two ghosts at once was a little tiring, and I didn't need him at the moment.

"What did you expect, Taylor? He's Empire. They're not all gonna be your knight in shining armor like Allfather. And he's no better to begin with."

I didn't have an answer to that. I couldn't answer, because the meaning behind my words would always come back to me choosing the Empire over her. My greed over what was right.

"Sorry." I said anyway.

"Sorry doesn't make it okay." Runechild snapped. She hoisted herself over a short chainlink fence in our way.

"Where are we going anyway?"

The fence was short enough that I could vault it easily, but some of the fabric on my costume hooked on the top and I got stuck.

Runechild looked back, sighed, and came to help me.

"Our apartment is over there." She said. "The one Setsu and I lived in."

We pulled my sleeve free and set off again. Runechild was so fired up that she managed to outstrip me, even with her shorter legs. She talked rapidly as she walked.

"Okay look, I didn't tell you because I forgot. But you need to know before we get there."

Runechild took a deep breath.

"My sister had powers."

I helped her climb over a fallen tree as I thought about it.

Her sister had powers. I hadn't expected it, but it wasn't really unbelievable. After all, didn't powers run in families? Allfather's kids both had powers, and I recalled Krieg saying something about his niece being a cape. I wanted to ask her which cape Setsuna was, but it seemed like a sensitive subject so I settled for something else.

"You're worried that I might have to have her as a ghost?"

Runechild glanced back, and then slowed her pace to match mine.

"Valk, that's not it at all. I'm worried because we might have to fight her. She was… at the end… I didn't tell you about her powers because I didn't think of it. I only found out right before it happened."

I hesitated. "Runechild, did she… use her powers on you?"

She was quiet for a long moment, before nodding.

"People were getting hurt, and I wanted to stop the person responsible. So, Detective Wickman and I went looking and… we found Setsu." Runechild sniffled, but gathered herself. "I couldn't believe it. It was like… it was like she was someone else. Like the Setsu I knew was just a fake."

"You feel like she betrayed you."

"I just- I want some answers, Valkyrie. I need to know _why_."

We made our way through a couple of backyards before cutting through a small grove of trees. Sunlight shone down through the leaves, dappling our clothes with patterns. The bright morning sun felt almost inappropriate when we were talking about such things.

The path through the grove came out on a narrow side street. It was deserted; the sidewalks and yards empty. I was privately glad for the solitude. Runechild's insistence on us doing this in costume had been that it would attract attention, and Setsuna might notice. But frankly, walking around in costume was embarrassing.

"There." Runechild pointed to an apartment complex across the street from us. It was a towering brick building wrapped around a courtyard. I knew at a glance that it was low income; there were dozens of similar buildings scattered across town, all in sketchy areas. It wasn't a kind observation to make, but I noticed all the same.

We crossed the street in silence.

Inside, the lobby was dimly lit; the desk empty. A single elevator faced us from across the lobby. There were a couple of ABB gang tags on the wall, and it looked like more had been painted over.

"I know it's not very nice." Runechild said. "But it wasn't really that bad. Better than most of the places Setsu and I stayed."

"You moved around a lot?"

"Before Brockton Bay, we just bummed around across Asia. Lots of people did it after Leviathan."

There was an uneasy twist in my throat as I thought of that. Runechild couldn't have been more than a young girl when Leviathan struck. I didn't think she'd lived in Brockton Bay that long; meaning that she'd probably spent years traveling around with Setsuna.

"That sounds hard." I said lamely.

She shrugged. "It was lonely. Setsu was always working, and a lot of times there weren't any other kids around, so I was alone a lot." Her voice dropped a little. "I'd make up all sorts of pretend games to play."

I hit the elevator button, still digesting what Runechild had said. She'd gone through Leviathan, and then lived for years as a refugee, only to be murdered by the one person she cared about. She deserved better. It wasn't fair for her to die so early. It wasn't _right_.

The elevator rumbled, and then dinged over to 'Out-of-Service.'

We both groaned.

"Stairs?" I asked.

"Here." Runechild opened a door adjacent to the elevator. It was dark, barely lit by orange safety lights. Flight after flight of stairs spiraled endlessly upward.

"We're at the top." She said.

Of course they were.

We plodded up two floors before she spoke.

"This'd be easier if my runes were still active. I used to have one at the top and one at the bottom because the elevator broke down a lot."

I glanced up the stairwell. The ceiling was lost in the gloom, far above.

"Too bad neither of us can fly." I mused.

"Maybe your next ghost will. And if you're really lucky, you'll get someone who's not a Nazi or… whatever Skidmark is. Somebody nice like Michael. Because I… oh."

She seemed to realize what she'd said and fell silent.

Runechild had just implied that I should be excited that someone had died. My power relied on death. Getting a nice ghost only meant that someone nice had died. Runechild was 'somebody nice.' She knew exactly what it was like to be on the receiving end of my powers.

I wanted to collect more ghosts. I did. I really did. But I had to remember that I was collecting _people_. No matter how many blissful thoughts I had of "more ghosts, always more more _more_ ," I had to keep my perspective on what that meant.

"Sorry." Runechild said very quietly.

"It's okay."

The conversation died after that. We marched along through the orange glow of the lights, alone with our thoughts.

By the time we reached the sixth floor, I was glad that I couldn't get tired. I stopped to check, and groaned when I saw we weren't even halfway there. Why was there only one elevator in this stupid place?

The swish of a cloak brought me back to reality. Runechild had kept walking while I stopped, and was now a full flight of stairs ahead. I sped up to catch up to her. She looked back, and then sped up.

What was she doing?

I went a little faster. She sped up.

This went on for two more flights, with her steadily pulling away from me.

What the hell was her rush? She'd been alright with walking until now.

A giggle sailed down the stairs to me, and I looked up to see her leaning over the railing, looking down at me.

"You're looking pretty gloomy back there, Valk." She grinned. "So… Race ya!"

Oh, she couldn't be serious.

She bolted up the stairs, gleeful laughter echoing behind her.

"If you win, you have to take me to meet Mouse Protector!" She shouted.

"I don't even know where we're going!" I yelled back.

I couldn't help smiling, though. She'd probably gotten tired of all the seriousness and decided to have fun. What an unrelentingly optimistic little brat.

I pounded up the stairs, my cloak whipping behind me. She was quick, but I had the advantage of longer legs. I took the stairs two at a time. Ahead, I caught a glimpse of Runechild, her legs working like pistons as she ran.

"If I win, you have to…" I couldn't think of anything. "Do something- uh- dye your… costume red and be Little Red Riding Hood!"

Fuck. That was a terrible penalty.

"Doesn't matter cuz I'm winnning! She called back.

I ran harder. Neither of us got tired, but I wasn't all that fit to begin with and she was downright nimble. Also, she was cheating. I managed to get within a flight of her, only for her to toss a runecard across the stairwell to the next level. With a pop, she was an entire landing and flight of stairs away from me.

Two could play at that game. I called Michael and Skidmark to me. Skidmark looked confused, but Michael broke into a run at once.

"The fuck is this? Are you chasing little girls now?" Skidmark said. He started up the stairs behind me.

"Beat Runechild up the stairs and I'll give you something!" I yelled back at them.

Skidmark grinned his tombstone smile. "I want a gold-plated Hummer, and you change your name to Skinny Bitch."

I was about to reply in the negative when Michael blew past me. He was older than I was, taller, and probably in better shape, but I hadn't realized how big a gulf that was. He left Skidmark and I far behind in no time. Above, I heard Runechild squeal with fright. From what I could feel from them, Michael had caught up with her.

A door slammed, and I dashed the last stretch as quick as I could. We'd run all the way to the top floor. There was nowhere to go but into the hallway.

I opened the door to find a very disappointed little girl. Michael was his usual blank self, but I could tell that he'd won.

"Cheater!" Runechild shouted. "No fair!"

She said it with a smile, and I knew that she was joking.

"What does he win?" I said. "Michael?"

He pointed down the hall. There was a tabby cat pawing at one of the apartment doors.

"Go ahead." I said.

Michael hurried over and scooped up the cat. It squirmed in his arms, but he whispered something to it, and it settled. Within seconds, it was purring happily in his arms, its eyes closed.

Huh. That was twice now that Michael had reacted to animals without my control. I guess that he liked animals enough to keep doing it even as a shade. It was kind of odd that he retained little traces of himself, rather than just being an extension of me.

"Valk, can I?" Runechild said, dancing a little as she looked at the cat.  
"Michael?" I asked.

Michael moved forward so Runechild could pet the cat also. Skidmark limped up the stairs behind me, panting.

"How are you tired?" I said incredulously. "You _can't_ get tired."

"I can do whatever the oozing fuck I want, whitebread." Skidmark grumbled. "And personally? Fuck that noise."

"That doesn't make sense. Maybe you should-"

I staggered; suddenly aware of how cold I felt. Weak. Insubstantial. Michael pushed the cat into Runechild's arms and caught me.

"Valk?!" Runechild cried.

The ghosts gathered around me and…

The ghosts.

I unsummoned Michael and Skidmark, leaving Runechild to hover over me.

"Are you okay?!"

"Hold… on."

Slowly, the cold receded, and the room stilled. Everything became clearer. Less confusing. More real.

"Valk?" Runechild said again.

"That was stupid. So, so stupid."

I'd channeled three at once and drained too much energy. Stupid. I'd gotten so caught up in our game that I hadn't even been paying attention. My stocks were replenishing, but the process was slow. Like waiting for a trickle to fill a bathtub.

"Okay, I'm good. Let's keep going." I lied.

Runechild frowned, but I steadied myself. I wasn't going to embarrass myself by delaying her just because I couldn't keep a handle on my powers.

"Really. I'm okay. It just made me a little dizzy. See- I'm not even transparent."

I pulled aside the wrappings on my fingers so she could see. I still felt less _real_ , but I wasn't so weak as to go transparent.

"Okay… I lived over there." Runechild said slowly.

She kept watching me, and I shooed her on.

The hallway ran twenty feet and then turned a corner, a small window illuminating the hall. It wasn't overly filthy, but it wasn't well-kept either. The whole place held the air of casual neglect.

"There." Runechild whispered, her hands trembling. "36-B."

It was just around the corner.

And the door was ajar.

We moved forward silently. She crept along the wall, holding her cloak up so it didn't drag. I followed close behind, doing likewise. I don't know why, but we'd both started sneaking.

Just a feeling, maybe.

Runechild reached the door, and peeked around the frame. She drew back instantly with a gasp.

"What is it?" I whispered.

"Oni Lee!" She hissed.

 _What_?! Why would Oni Lee be here?

I slid past her and peered into the apartment.  
It was dark; lit mostly by the light coming through the open door. There was a kitchen in an alcove, and a small hallway leading to what I assumed was the bedroom. The main living room was small and sparsely furnished. Old food wrappers and empty bottles littered the surfaces and floor, and the whole place smelled vaguely like sour wine.

And standing dead center was Oni Lee. Our only saving grace was that he was half-turned away, using his cellphone. There was no mistaking him. His costume was unremarkable - black pants, combat vest, lots of knives, but his mask… No one else would dare wear a Hannya mask in Brockton Bay.

"We need to go." I whispered at Runechild.

"Setsu might be in danger."

"That's Oni Lee! He'll kill…" I trailed off.

He couldn't kill us. We were already dead.

Runechild smirked at me. "So there's nothing to worry about."

"I'm still kinda shaky. I think we should fall back and-"

She stepped into the doorway and kicked the door open.

"Halt, villain!"

"Dammit Runechild!"

Now I had to back her up. I stepped up behind her.

Oni Lee reacted instantly. With one hand, he slid the phone into a pocket on his vest; with the other, he drew a combat knife. He stepped back, dropping into a half-crouch.

"Runechild, how are you going to fight him?"

She had no weapons at all. All I had was my knife, and that felt very small compared to Oni Lee's vicious looking combat knife.

Runechild clenched her fists. "What did you do with the woman who lived here?"

Oni Lee stayed silent.

"Answer me!" Runechild yelled.

Something blocked the light behind me, and I dodged without thinking. Another Oni Lee embedded his knife in the doorframe just as the one in the room crumbled into ash. The new Lee let go of the knife and backhanded me. His fist hit the cloth-covered part of my face, and I _felt_ it.

It didn't hurt, but I felt the force of the blow all the same. I bounced off the wall, reeling.

"Valk!" Runechild cried. She kicked Oni Lee in the kneecap. He ignored it and decked her in the face. She cried out as her mask spun away across the floor. Another Oni Lee appeared behind her and grabbed her. The first Lee pulled his knife from the doorframe and advanced on me.

I scrambled away, the wall the only thing keeping me from falling.

Holy shit, I was in a cape fight. A cape fight with Oni fucking Lee. It might have only been some weird, imaginary sensation caused by my powers, but in that moment, my heart was pounding, and my hands shook with the adrenaline rush.

"Help!" Runechild gasped from where Oni Lee held her. The Lee menacing me forced me a dozen feet down the hall before it disintegrated.

I was in a cape fight with Oni Lee, and he had Runechild as a hostage. He couldn't technically hurt her, but if she got injured, I'd probably go down from the energy loss. What was I supposed to do here? I couldn't fight Oni Lee on my own.

I needed help.

"Allfather, to me!"

The edged shard erupted from my power. His armor glinted in the sunlight as he faded in, standing at my side. The apartment hallway was suddenly much more crowded.

"I'll be your opponent." Allfather said.

Space rippled in front of him, swords appearing from nowhere.

"Don't move." Oni Lee said, pressing his knife against Runechild's throat. She squeaked with terror.

Allfather laughed. "Oh no, a hostage."

He shot a sword at Lee. It pierced through Lee's shoulder, barely missing Runechild. The duplicate Lee disintegrated instantly. The burst of ash left Runechild coughing, moving blindly into the hall. Another Lee lunged out of the apartment at Allfather. Sparks flew as the Lee's knife hit Allfather's armor.

Another Lee came at me. He was agile and I was clumsy, and he easily dodged my wild haymaker. His attack was almost too fast to register. I felt the knife's edge for the barest second as it hit my costume. But as soon as the blade cut through, it passed through me harmlessly. Lee glanced at the bloodless knife and my ripped sleeve, and then crumbled into ash. A new Lee immediately stabbed at me from the side; swinging more cautiously, probing with his attacks.

Ghost powers or no, I didn't want to risk Oni Lee suddenly figuring a way to stab me. I scrambled away down the hall. Behind him, Allfather was dealing with two more clone Lees. A fourth Lee appeared down the hall, raising a pistol.

"Look out!" I shouted.

The gunshot were deafening in the narrow hallway. The Lee fired again and again, blue smoke hazing over his end of the hall; each shot like a thunderclap. The gun clicked empty, and the gunman Oni Lee disintegrated. The rest of the Lees fell apart one by one.

Allfather snarled angrily, holding his chest. Two little chunks of metal fell to the floor in front of him, but I could see holes in his armor.

Before I could stop it, energy rushed down our connection, filling Allfather. His shard pulsed, and then began to repair itself. The holes in his breastplate filled in and the bullets in his chest ejected, falling through him to hit the floor. I could feel the repairs; his heart and lungs returning to normal, his skin sliding back together.

No blood flowed in his veins though. His insides were just imitations; given form mindlessly by my powers. It didn't matter if they didn't do anything, my power still repaired them.

Allfather coughed once, and then nodded to me.

"Hell of an ability." He said.

I staggered, and he caught me. Repairing him had taken a lot of energy. It was like all the fatigue I hadn't had from running the stairs had hit me all at once.

"Easy, Valkyrie." Allfather said.

"Where's Runechild?" I gasped.

"Here!" She cried.

We looked, to find Oni Lee standing down the hallway, his knife at Runechild's throat again.

"Again? She's not much use, is she?" Allfather said dryly.

Oni Lee ignored our attention. He was looking intently at Runechild, holding her face up so he could see her.

"You… you're... Aida-san." Oni Lee said. His voice was flat, affectless behind his mask.

Runechild went white. "No! You're wrong! I'm not her."

How did Oni Lee know Runechild? Her mask wasn't much of a disguise to begin with, and she'd lost it during the fight. And Lee knew her well enough to recognize her immediately.

"No," Oni Lee said firmly. "You are Aida Noriko, Setsuna's sister. She's been looking for you."

She stared up at him. Her lip was quivering, and her short pixie cut was a mess with ash and dust. It struck me then how young she was. Too young for any of this.

"Let go of her!" I yelled at Oni Lee. I didn't care if he couldn't hear me.

Allfather relayed it in his own words. "Let go of the girl, Chinaman."

He raised a fist, and more swords split the air. Oni Lee didn't seem perturbed by having an entire armory pointed at his face.

"Aida-san will accompany me to see her sister." Lee said. "Valkyrie will come as well."

Like hell I would.

"Ask him why I have to go." I said to Allfather. He repeated the question to Oni Lee.

"Valkyrie will come because Black Kaze has business with her concerning Aida-san." Lee said.

Black Kaze? Nobody was talking about Black Kaze though. If-

Oh.

 _Oh shit._

Runechild's sister was Black Kaze. _The Black Kaze._ Runechild had withheld the last piece of the puzzle, but I should have figured it out. Runechild was a teleporter. Her sister was ABB. Once I'd known her sister had powers- it should have been obvious! Black Kaze was the only female cape in the ABB, and a teleporter to boot.

"Who?" Allfather said. He sounded as confused as Runechild looked.

"A supervillain." I said. Hysteria edged into my voice. "Runechild's sister is a supervillain. Why didn't you tell me, Runechild!? Black Kaze is a psycho!"

'Psycho' was putting it lightly. The last couple years had been marked by a long series of headlines about Black Kaze. It was never 'Lung did this,' or 'the ABB did that.' No. It was always Black Kaze, center stage for some new atrocity. Oni Lee was almost as bad, but Black Kaze was flashy. Cape-killings, assassinations, wanton, brutal murders. She did them all, and she did them _bold_.

The way I guessed it, the only reason she hadn't been Birdcaged yet was because of how infrequent those headlines had gotten recently. She'd just stopped showing up, and had largely slipped out of the public eye. Maybe she'd just gotten tired of it, or maybe Lung had made her tone it down, I didn't know. But she was still out there.

Runechild sagged, and Oni Lee pulled the knife away from her throat. He eyed it for a moment before sheathing it.

"I didn't know her cape name. It figures though…" Runechild said. "I'd hoped so badly that she would have moved on."

"She has not." Oni Lee said flatly. "Black Kaze evidently decided that finding you was important enough to slaughter her way across Empire 88."

"What?!" Allfather snarled, his voice tight with anger.

Lee turned to address him. "Yes. She went missing last night. I came here to search for her, only to receive a phone call with her location shortly before Aida-san interrupted me."

"Setsu," Runechild moaned. "Oh Setsu. How could you?"

Oni Lee took Runechild by the arm.

"We will go now." He said.

"Not a chance!" I shouted.

Runechild might not be able to teleport free, but I could do the next best thing. I severed my connection to her. Runechild vanished instantly; her shard returning to my power. Oni Lee stepped back in surprise as I resummoned Runechild beside me.

Allfather raised a fist, ready to fire, when Oni Lee put his hands up in surrender.

"I'm no longer interested in fighting. It would be in your best interests as members of the Empire to come along. Black Kaze is erratic at the best of times, and her sister has always been a point of contention for her."

"Explain." Allfather growled.

The web of swords surrounding him vibrated with suppressed rage. He was seconds away from just cutting Lee to ribbons, regardless of what Lee said.

"Yours and Aida-san's presence may be the only thing that keeps Black Kaze from destroying your Empire. She will keep killing until she gets what she wants."

Lee said it in the same monotone he said everything in. It was almost eerie. I expected him to be excited about someone defeating the Empire, but he said it like he was discussing the weather.

"Valk, I… I want to go see Setsu." Runechild said.

"This is probably a trap." I said.

"Maybe." She shook her head. "I have to go anyway. Not just because I want to see her, but because I can't let her hurt anyone."

"This is definitely a trap." Allfather interjected. He turned to me. "We're going anyway, aren't we?"

I nodded. "Runechild's right. We can't let Black Kaze hurt anyone."

Allfather huffed exasperatedly. "Heroes."

Runechild sniffed, and wiped her eyes with her cloak.

"It's not fair, Valk. Setsu was a good person, but we're going out there like she's a mad dog!"

"We'll… we'll help her get back to normal." I said consolingly. "That's what we do right? That's my role as a hero. I've got to help you help Setsuna."

My reassurances sounded hollow. I didn't want to help Black Kaze. She was a monster. Not just for what she'd done to Noriko, but for all the things she'd done as a supervillain. I didn't want to help her at all- I wanted her dead. The world would be better off without her.

"Valk, I- I just hate it. I hate this whole damn thing." Runechild said. Her mouth twisted bitterly. "She suffered her whole life, and for what?"

Allfather cleared his throat, interrupting her. "People are dying. We need to wrap this up."

"Let's roll." I said. "We can-"

 _Direction. Force. Flight._

The words died on my lips.

I felt it. A touch against my power.

Pulse. Reaction.

Like hearing a once familiar voice that was now half-forgotten.

The song rose high and sweet, ringing across the city.


	19. 1-19

1.19

James was halfway across the South Street Bridge when his phone rang for the second time. The phone lay on the floor of the passenger's seat, well out of reach.

Decisions, decisions.

Brauer might be calling back with an update. If he was lucky, it'd be Taylor. Or would it be Runechild? Would Taylor find it awkward to use a phone? James still wasn't sure exactly how the girl's power worked, but it seemed like she'd have to outsource any phone conversations to that… _thing_ of hers. The specter. Michael or whatever.

Frankly, James wasn't keen on hearing Michael's eerie choral voice over the phone. On the other hand, Taylor might need him to pick her up. He'd be able to get things back on track with no more nonsense about Runechild's fucking sister.

The phone rang again. James sighed.

He jerked the wheel to the side, veering into the opposite lane for a moment. The phone slid across the rubberized floor mats, still ringing. James fumbled for it; one hand on the wheel and one eye on the road.

After a few tense grabs, his fingers closed around the phone and he smiled triumphantly, inordinately proud for such a stupid thing.

"Hello?"

"Krieg."

The voice on the other end of the line was female, heavily accented and unfamiliar. She sounded… Chinese, maybe? Definitely foreign though. Meaning that a stranger had his number and knew his cape name. More than enough red flags for him to hang up.

James tried to sound politely embarrassed.

"Ah sorry, I think you've got the wrong number. There's definitely no one by that name here."

There was a pause, and then some muffled noises that sounded like someone talking in the background.

Curiosity over who had his phone number only went so far. He'd give it another minute and then he was hanging up.

The road hooked right onto North Harbor. He'd go a couple blocks west, change to the left lane, and then on to the storehouse. If Brauer was still there, James was going to beat the man three shades of blue for wasting his time.

'Someone killed the whole storehouse.' _Right_. Not only was that not the ABB's style, but the ABB hadn't even made their move yet. He knew for certain they were going to come to blows over the territory the Merchants had vacated, but not yet, and not like this.

No, more likely that Brauer had gotten wasted and imagined the whole thing.

James worked the horn as someone cut him off. He considered blowing out the other car's tires with his power, but decided against it. Trish had been after him to keep his blood pressure down lately. Power-assisted road rage would only exacerbate it. He satisfied himself with a long stream of four-letter words.

"Krieg." The woman's voice returned to his ear. "I've got someone here who assures me that you are Krieg. Would you like to speak to them?"

James rolled his eyes. What kind of call was this? If it was some kind of threat, it needed work. He'd spoken to more frightening telemarketers.

"Go ahead." He said magnanimously.

There was another pause, and then…

"Hello?! Uncle? _UNCLE_?!" A girl's voice pierced into his ear; made shrill and raw with terror.

James hit the brakes so hard that he left a black streak in the road. Traffic flowed around him, honking loudly, but he barely heard.

Amanda.

They had Amanda.

She was sobbing.

"Uncle, oh- oh God, p-please, you've got to come. She's- oh God, everyone's dead. You've g-got to-"

Amanda's voice cut off as the stranger pulled the phone away from her.

"Krieg." The stranger said. "I'm calling each member of the Empire. Rune seemed to think you'd know, so I called you first."

He had to think. Where was Amanda at today? She was doing guard duty somewhere, he knew. Another one of the storehouses.

"I'm listening." He rasped.

"I want Valkyrie, Krieg."

He couldn't tell her. He wasn't supposed to know Valkyrie. But Amanda- he had to- but if he did, and Kaiser found out- but- God dammit- he had to!

Finally, he managed a single, strangled, "yes."

"So you _do_ know her." The voice sounded slightly less stoic. A hint of… was that joy?

"I want you to send her over to the Empire storehouse on Oakhill lane. Tell her Black Kaze is waiting."

"And if I don't?"

"That's your choice to make, Krieg. Just like I'll let you choose for Rune: left or right."

"Left or right what?" He said, grinding his teeth now.

"Everything, Krieg. Left or right _everything_." Black Kaze paused. "You shouldn't keep me waiting."

Amanda's voice hit him like a punch in the chest.

"No no no no- oh God no not that- don't- UNCLE UNCLE _UNCLE-_ "

She was still screaming when the line went dead.

James sat there; staring numbly out the windshield for almost two minutes before another driver nearly rear-ended his car. Mechanically, he started driving again. He took the first right turn, drove until he found an empty lot, and then pulled in.

He popped the trunk and dug into the contents. Roadmaps, blankets, and the folding chairs he and Trish used at Mark's soccer games hit the ground around him. And there, in the bottom, in a gym bag beneath his spare tire, he found what he wanted.

The bag's contents were musty; rarely used.

His spare costume.

James pulled on his coat, leaving the mask and cap for later. They were too obvious for just driving around. The sense of clarity that settled over him as he settled the coat on his shoulders was palpable. He didn't just feel safer; he felt more together. Focused. Ready.

Krieg got back in the car. Gravel sprayed behind him as he pulled out. He drove one-handed, dialing with the other.

If Black Kaze wanted a war, she'd get a war.

She'd get the whole fucking Empire.

We crossed the city in bursts, sticking to the rooftops. There was something mind-boggling about being able to cross whole blocks in a matter of moments.

It was a big change from what I was used to. With Runechild, teleporting was a rapid-fire slideshow. She was so fast that the scenery was barely a blur before the next jump. Oni Lee was slower, more deliberate.

I couldn't say whether he was actually slower than Runechild was, or if it was just a consequence of the way his power worked. He had to stop and look for his next destination before he teleported. We'd teleport, Oni Lee would drag me along by the sleeve for a few feet, and then we'd teleport again.

The only constant as we jumped was the rush of air. The wind across the rooftops whipped my costume about wildly. If I concentrated, I could actually feel it move _through_ me. It was an eerie sensation, feeling every shift in air pressure as it passed through the gaps in my costume. You shouldn't be able to feel wind on the inside of your skin.

I tried not to concentrate on that too much.

Oni Lee didn't say anything as we traveled, and I said nothing back. He was cut from the same cloth as Black Kaze. Just being near him made me nervous. He couldn't teleport more than one person, so I didn't have any ghosts to back me up. And even if he couldn't stab me, I wasn't keen to find out what would happen if he teleported me off a skyscraper.

My only real contingency against that was the stack of runecards I had in my free hand. Every time we teleported, I dropped a card on the ground. If Lee tried anything funny, Runechild would be able to pull me out instantly. And if nothing happened, we'd still have a nice little line of runecards for future use.

On my left was the Protectorate base behind its shimmering shield. It was visible from nearly any rooftop in the city, and I used it to orient myself as we went.

From the top of an insurance building to the broad roof on an apartment complex. From there, a sloped church steeple. We slid alarmingly on the grade, and I nearly called Runechild before Lee moved us onward.

Church to office, office to Brockton Bay Memorial. Pigeons scattered as we strode across the helicopter pad. A few hospital staff were smoking below us on a subroof. Lee jerked my arm as I lagged behind, but I pulled away, looking at them.

That subroof was the hospital wing where Dad was. Guilt surged like bile as I realized that he'd been in the hospital for over a week now. I needed to get a hold of Panacea. She'd had plenty of time to make her choice. Letting Dad waste away down there; stuck full of wires and tubes… No. No, I wasn't going to let that happen. Panacea _would_ come round.

I let Oni Lee take my sleeve again. From hospital to office, office to office to office. The streets stretched out below us in a busy web, thrumming with daytime activity. We were separate from all the hustle and bustle; two shades passing through a sea of air conditioners and water towers.

I wasn't sure how long it took us to cross the city. Things faded away into a rhythm of teleports, and I devoted most of my attention to watching Oni Lee. My already healthy sense of paranoia wore thin the longer I spent around him. Our jumps got faster as the buildings thinned out, turning into houses and small apartments. We could cover an entire neighborhood in moments.

Oni Lee gave no warning that we'd arrived. There was only a jump to a sunken, rotting rooftop, and then he stopped. There was nowhere left to go. We'd run out of houses.

From my vantage point, I looked down at the expanse. There was only one house on the entire block; dead center. The rest looked to have been abandoned and then torn down. Nature had reclaimed the empty lots and turned the former suburban neighborhood into a sea of tall grass. The waist-high, yellow stalks shifted in the breeze, rustling faintly. Here and there, the field was broken by a tree or remnant; old fence posts, mailboxes, even an oddly surreal basketball hoop, rusting away.

The solitary house was a forlorn, turn-of-the-century Victorian; a remnant of better days. Its windows were dirty, and the cars in the driveway ill-maintained. The ominous feeling it gave off didn't matter so much at the moment.

What mattered was the song. It had grown steadily as we got closer; from a whisper on the wind to something almost symphonic. Wordless, endless, like a chorus of voices raised in wonder. It echoed out of a gaping hole in the wall of the house's second floor, spreading across the field.

I _felt_ it. Like I felt nothing else. As though I was alive again, and the song was wending its way through me like blood. It was hope and joy made into music, undercut with a sweet-edged desire. Deeper than intimate; settling over me in burning spirals that brushed my lips and then settled at the base of my spine.

The sheer _want_ that rose in me was almost painful. The _want_ to live- the _want_ to help- the _want_ to _be_. I heard and I wanted because I knew what the song was telling me. Completing contracts wasn't going to be some empty quest.

This was my salvation, my hope.

Just as my other ghosts were.

"Valkyrie?"

I jerked back to attention. Oni Lee was looking at me, his head cocked.

Stupid. Stupid of me to get distracted. A supervillain had me by the arm, and I was soliloquizing about ghosts and-

With a roar, every window on the ground floor of the house exploded outward at once. Shards of glass showered across the field like crystal rain. A few errant slivers whizzed by us; one even slicing a tear through my arm wrap. The sound of the blast echoed back at us like distant thunder.

I didn't need Oni Lee's look of confirmation to tell me where Black Kaze was. I nodded to him, he caught my sleeve again and we moved. He teleported us not to the house, but into the grass. We were still a good ten yards away from the house. I turned to ask him why, but he crumbled into ash. I stared as the little pile of ash blew away in the wind; Oni Lee nowhere in sight.

He'd ditched me.

Fucking Oni Lee. Allfather and I were going to have words with him later. In the meantime, there was a _slight_ chance I'd just gone head first into a trap.

With a sigh, I waded through the grass toward the house. The stalks prickled and caught at my costume, and when I went to pull free, I noticed that there were little spots of red on the grass.

It smeared across my glove as I touched it.

Blood.

There was blood in the grass.

A few feet later, I came upon a matted patch, with a bent trail marking a path from the house. Blood painted the grass in glistening swathes, and the ground was muddied where it had soaked in.

That was a _lot_ of blood. But there was no body. As I looked closer, I could see red smeared along the path leading to the house.

I stepped carefully around the bloody path and continued on to the house.

The stairs of the front porch creaked under my weight, and broken glass shattered with each step. The porch was packed with old, overflowing trash bags, with only a narrow path between them to the door. I skirted the trash as best I could. Too many bad memories about garbage.

The screen door dangled off the wall on broken hinges, and the front door was ajar. I reached for it slowly and pushed it open.

It opened on an empty foyer, and more blood. The floor was tiled in black and white, with a long, vivid red streak of blood slashing across the neat squares. Rivulets traced along the cracks in the tile and pooled in the depressions caused by years of traffic. Spots of it had lain long enough to dull into rusty streaks. Flies were already gathering; their manic buzzing the only sound in the house.

A staircase ran up the left side of the room. There was more blood staining the risers.

I shut the door.

"Fuck this."

There was no way in hell I was going in there alone. With a thought, Allfather and Runechild flickered into being at my sides.

"You okay?" Runechild asked.

It was nice of her to worry, but she was just as freaked out as I was. The line of freckles across her nose stood out in stark contrast to her pale, nervous face.

"I'll be okay." I said weakly. "Allfather, you want to go in first?"

Allfather nodded his assent and drew his sword. He pressed a hand to the door, but then hesitated, looking down at Runechild.

"Maybe you should stay outside." He said.

"Because I'm too Asian to come into your Empire clubhouse?" She shot back.

"Because you're twelve."

Runechild's mouth twisted bitterly. "I've seen my sister's work before. I'm coming in."

They both looked to me then. What, was I supposed to decide?

I sighed. "Runechild comes. We're here because of her, after all." I dropped one of the cards she'd given me onto the porch. "If anything happens, I'm trusting you to get us out, okay?"

Runechild nodded to me, still looking a little green. She had another stack of runecards in one hand, held so tightly that the papers were crumpling.

Allfather drew back his foot and kicked the front door off its hinges. The door bounced across the foyer and came to rest across the blood smear.

We filed in, Allfather leading the way. He was covering me, and I was covering Runechild. Covering her lost some of its meaning because she was a ghost, but I wasn't letting anything happen to her on my watch. She had too many bad memories already, and we were walking into a slaughterhouse.

"Upstairs, I think." Allfather mused.

"Should we split up to search?" Runechild said. "There might be survivors."

Despite the veritable waterfall of blood staining the steps, I wanted to go upstairs with Allfather. The song originated up there. But I also had a strong sense of how these things worked. The ghost wasn't going anywhere, and as much as I wanted to rush, rushing was a really, really stupid idea.

"Let's search together." I said. "If we split up, things are going to go all horror movie on us."

Runechild paled visibly. "Y-yeah, I think you're right."

Allfather readied his sword, and we congregated around the set of pocket doors on the right side of the foyer. Another hallway led back into the house, but the doors were closest. One of the doors was lopsided; hanging crookedly out of the wall.

Allfather pushed the undamaged door open, his sword at the ready. He stepped in first, motioning us to stay back. Runechild and I stood tensely, waiting for the all-clear.

It didn't come.

"Krieg!" Allfather's shout tore through the house.

Runechild and I bolted through the door. We entered a dining room in disarray. The long table was split in two; caved in where the chandelier had fallen on it. The floor glittered with hundreds of glass shards from when the windows had exploded earlier. Dusty curtains rippled in the spare breeze; every one shredded to bits by the glass.

And there, on a pile of shattered furniture at the other end of the room, was Krieg.

I stared in disbelief for a moment.

The Nazi cape looked far different than he had the last time I'd seen him. Now he was in costume; a heavy black greatcoat, a peaked cap emblazoned with a death's head, and a half-skull mask. One side of his mask was cracked, and dust and dirt had been ground into his costume, turning the dark material an ugly brown-gray.

"Allfather… Valkyrie." Krieg's voice was thick; drawn taut and hoarse with pain.

Allfather moved faster than I'd thought possible. He was at Krieg's side in seconds, clutching at the other man. I ran to them, slipping slightly on the blood-slicked tile. I knelt down beside the two men, Runechild close behind me. My hands had already started shaking, but I pushed on.

"What are you doing here?" Allfather said.

"Had… to." Krieg gasped. A bubble of blood bloomed at the corner of his mouth, and he spat before continuing. "Black Kaze… here. She… has Amanda. Had… to."

"Where are you hurt?" Allfather cut in.

Krieg laughed wetly. "Damn near everywhere."

Allfather pulled his hand back; the palm of his glove was slick with blood.

" _Shit!_ What were you thinking? How long were you like this?" Allfather yelled.

"Lost track of… time. Not… too long. We… fought." Krieg's hand drifted up to indicate the wrecked room. "She's… too fast. Got hit… she left… left me for dead."

I could see now that the side of Krieg's coat was soaked through; glistening wetly. Allfather slipped his hand beneath the coat, probing for injuries. Beneath his coat, Krieg wore the same white button-down he had when I last saw him. It was stained a horrible, bright, arterial red now.

"Here." Allfather said, pointing with his free hand to a spot just below Krieg's ribcage. "You two- find something- a medical kit- anything to stop the bleeding or put on the wound."

I stared down at them, transfixed by Krieg's shirt.

Bright, arterial red.

No pressure.

It was only a man's life in my hands, and I had no medical training and no idea and holy crap there was blood everywhere. On the floor, on the walls, on Allfather's hands. The whole house _stank_ of copper and garbage.

It smelled like the locker.

Krieg was going to die, and I had no idea what to do, and… frankly, I didn't want another Nazi ghost. One racist asshole was enough, and Krieg lacked Allfather's charm.

And that was what clinched it. It was stupid, but it snapped me out of my little freak out.

One step at a time.

Something to stop the bleeding.

Curtains, bandages, cloth, rags… Cloth!

I ripped off my cloak, laying it out flat in a clear space of floor.

"Hurry." Allfather interjected.

"I know!" I snapped.

"W-what should I do?" Runechild said squeakily. She was hovering; her hands over her mouth.

"Medical supplies." Allfather muttered distractedly.

" _Where_?!"

I pointed down a long hallway. "Try the bathroom or the kitchen. In my house we kept them under the sink." I eyed my cloak. I could start cutting apart the rest of costume if I needed to, but… "Bring back clean towels and dishrags if you can find them."

"Gotcha!" Runechild called over her shoulder; already running down the hall. She vanished through a door at the far end. Shit. I should have gotten her cloak too. I'd have to replenish her shard if I did, but not until later.

My hand shook badly as I drew my knife, enough that I had to steady my cutting hand with my free one. Thankfully, the blade was sharp, and I had no trouble cutting through the cape.

Krieg moaned with pain.

I finished the first strip with such force that my knife gouged into the floor.

"Here!" I shoved the strip into Allfather's hands. Buttons flew as Allfather tore Krieg's shirt open. He wadded up the makeshift bandage and pressed it against Krieg's side.

"Krieg," Allfather said gently. "I need you to put pressure on this."

"…yes." Krieg gurgled.

He fumbled blindly before Allfather directed him; holding Krieg's hand over the bandage. Allfather didn't release his hand though. Krieg was too weak to hold the bandage down.

I made another strip bandage; this one crooked where I'd fumbled the knife. It joined its fellow on Krieg's wound; turning red with frightening rapidity.

"Christ, James. Why did you come alone?!" Allfather said hoarsely.

He hadn't stopped looking for wounds. Twice more he pointed to a gash, and twice more I soaked my hands trying to staunch the flow.

"Called… for help." Krieg said. "And… you came. Empire's… coming." He coughed, and then spoke through a mouthful of red froth. "Get… Othala… healer."

Over the next few minutes, I shredded the rest of my cloak. What was taking Runechild so long? Unless…

"Krieg, what happened to Black Kaze?" I said.

His hazy blue eyes came to rest on me. "Black… Kaze?" He said slowly. "We fought… Beat me… She's… here, Valkyrie. Still… here."

I grabbed Krieg's shoulders. "Why didn't you mention that?!"

"He can't hear you." Allfather reminded me. He relayed the question to Krieg. The injured cape just chuckled wetly before laying back and closing his eyes.

 _Noriko_! I'd sent her running off with her murderous sister still in the house. What were the odds that Black Kaze wouldn't make a second go of things?

I pulled on my connection to Runechild; beginning to sever it. Her intent pulsed back to me immediately. Rapid, desperate flashes. She wanted me… to stop? What the hell was going on with her?

"Shit- I'll get her." I said, already scrambling to my feet.

"Forget her!" Allfather barked. He pressed two fingers to Krieg's throat. "He's still alive but not for long. We need to get him to a hospital. Krieg, I need you to wake up. Where's your car?"

"That's easy," A voice cut in; electronic and grating. "Just look for the _kubelwagen,_ ya?"

I spun.

A woman stood in the doorway to the foyer. A _cape_ stood in the doorway to the foyer. My first thought was 'Black Kaze,' but my second dismissed it immediately. I knew what Black Kaze looked like, and this woman wasn't her.

The woman facing us wore an elaborate respirator; red lenses peeking out through her long, black bangs. Her costume reminded me of Oni Lee's; basic and functional. Black pants with knee boots, and a double-bandoleer of what I thought were grenades over a combat vest. The only ornamentations were the braided cords twined around her shoulders. And unless Hollywood had failed me completely, I was pretty sure that she had a grenade launcher hefted over one shoulder.

"This is where you say _gutentag_ , you Nazi fucks." The woman said. Her mask turned the words into a robotic monotone.

A huge hand reached through the doors and shoved her roughly to one side. The man that followed the cape woman had to stoop to fit through the doorframe.

Metal dragon mask, a chest full of tattoos, and arms thicker than my legs. I recognized him in the same way I did Black Kaze: The local news. As in, 'responsible for all the horrible things that happened on the local news.'

Lung.

He had presence in a way that Oni Lee didn't. The kind of presence that came from being able to rip apart everyone in the room with your bare hands. The kind that came fighting the local Protectorate to a standstill and walking away. No, Oni Lee had rep, but Lung? Lung had infamy.

The ABB leader was already starting to hulk up, and I could see the air around him rippling with heat. He was already head and shoulders above even Allfather.

Oni Lee slipped in behind him to complete the trio, flanking Lung opposite the woman.

Lee had run off to get reinforcements. And they'd picked up a new member.

God damn, he was a _prick_.

"Valkyrie, get Krieg and go." Allfather growled. "I'll handle this."

Lung surveyed us for a moment before turning away dismissively.

"Bakuda, Lee, kill the men." He said. His voice was inhumanly deep; distorted by his power. "Take the Valkyrie for later. I'll find Kaze."

The woman- Bakuda made a flat, repetitive noise before leveling her grenade launcher at us. It took me a moment to realize she was laughing. Oni Lee just raised a gleaming sub-machinegun. Lung turned down the hallway that Runechild had gone down.

I couldn't let him get to her.

So I did something really stupid.

"Allfather, taunt him." I said. "Stall him. Anything to keep him away from Runechild."

Allfather glanced at me. Then he stood, stepping over Krieg to guard the man with his body.

"You, dragon." Allfather called, his voice raised arrogantly. "What's the matter? Afraid to face a real warrior?"

Lung stopped.

And then he turned slowly.

"What did you say?" Lung rumbled.

Allfather chuckled at Lung's question. "You heard me. Got a name, dragon? Or should I just call you Lee too?"

Lung's flames suddenly intensified, bathing the room in an orange glow. Bakuda and Oni Lee were forced to move back by the heat. It didn't mean a thing to me or Allfather, but Krieg wouldn't survive a cape fight.

The ABB leader's next words were so mangled with anger and transformation that they were barely comprehensible.

"Rhunng. Rrlll krrll yrrr."

Allfather looked at me questioningly.

"Lung," I supplied. "He's the leader of the ABB. Gets stronger the longer he fights. Dunno what Bakuda does. Can you handle them while I get Krieg?"

Allfather jerked his fist downward, and swords the size of ironing boards slammed into the floor in front of Krieg and me, shielding us. More swords rippled into being around Allfather. Dozens of them; more than I'd ever seen him use. He nodded to me before stepping forward, his stance all jaunty confidence.

"Well then Lung, I guess you can call me Saint George."

Lung's roar shook the last remaining shards of glass from the windows.

I dove for Krieg at the same instant Allfather leapt forward, his swords whirring into motion. 

SPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAK

Noriko dashed into the hallway so fast that she nearly tripped. Panic thrummed through her, sending her skinny limbs shaking. Krieg was hurt. People were dead.

And Oni Lee had said Setsuna was responsible for this.

Guilt joined the fear in queasy waves.

There were two doors at the end of the hallway; one straight ahead, the other on the right. She paused there, and peered in through the right door. It was dimly lit, illuminated only by the grayish light coming through the broken window pane.

Metal fixtures gleamed in the gloom. A bathroom. There might be medical supplies in the bathroom. That had always been one of Setsuna's policies. Every new place they stayed, Setsuna would always set up the same things first. A lock on the door, their medical kit in the bathroom, and Noriko's bear on the bed.

Noriko scurried in without hesitation. The hand-towel holder hanging crookedly next to the sink was empty. She flipped open the mirror. A half-dozen pill bottles greeted her. Her frantic grab scattered the bottles, sending them into the sink.

She checked all of them, her clumsy fingers barely able to hold the bottles. They were all empty. Nothing to use as a bandage, nothing to help Krieg with the pain, and nothing remotely resembling a medical kit. She shut the mirror and turned to the towel rack by the shower. Two stained towels hung there, and she grabbed for them without thinking.

 _Ew ew ew ew_ -

Noriko dropped the towels to the floor, wiping her hands on her cloak. The towels managed to somehow be stiff and moldy at the same time, and what wasn't furry with growth was oily and foul.

Krieg needed a clean bandage or he'd get sick. Not that she'd mind if Krieg got sick. But... she also didn't want Krieg to die. No one deserved that. Even if Krieg was a stupid Nazi jerk. She'd be the bigger person and help him. And how funny would that be? Krieg getting his life saved by a Japanese girl. She knew Taylor would laugh herself silly over it.

She checked under the sink and found nothing, so with one final glance, she left the bathroom. The bathroom door clicked shut behind her just as she pushed open the other door.

The room beyond was a kitchen. A pale yellow light played out of the open fridge, illuminating the kitchen surfaces. Even at a glance, she could tell that the kitchen made the bathroom look pristine.

But she didn't care about that at the moment. Noriko had eyes only for the person rummaging around in the fridge, silhouetted by the light. She stepped forward, peeking around the door. The person had to be either Empire or…

She shifted, trying to get a better view. The kitchen door creaked as she brushed against it, and the stranger stiffened. Noriko drew back, but the damage was done.

"Back for more already, Krieg?" The stranger- a woman, spoke without looking away from the fridge.

 _That voice!_

When no answer came, the woman sighed.

"I didn't stab you in the mouth." She turned. "What happened to-"

Noriko gasped.

The woman standing in front of the open fridge had a brown bottle in one hand, and a katana in the other. Wisps of hair escaped her long ponytail, hanging across a face that Noriko knew. Her face was older, frighteningly lined and careworn, but still the same face she'd seen every day of her life. Brown eyes a shade darker than hers looked back.

The name came as barely a whisper.

"Setsuna."

Her sister's mouth fell open.

The bottle hit the floor with a crash. Acrid smelling beer pooled around Setsuna's feet.

"Y-you…" Setsuna choked. "Nori."

Noriko slid out from behind the door, letting it close behind her.

They faced each other across the filthy kitchen.

It was bizarre, seeing her like this. The memories of Setsuna that were for her barely two weeks old carried a weight, a blurring of age. Noriko hadn't lived the years in between, but she somehow instinctively _knew_ that time had passed. It didn't feel like time travel. More like… returning home after a long time.

"I've missed you."

Saying it aloud crystallized it for her. She was scared of what might happen, of what Setsuna might be about to do, but she _had_ missed her.

" _How can you say that_?" Setsuna responded in Japanese. The words twanged something unfamiliar in Noriko; resonating bone deep. Their mother tongue.

Noriko slipped back into it without thought or effort.

" _I don't understand, Setsu._ "

Beer sloshed across the floor as Setsuna moved forward. " _You missed **me**_?" Setsuna hissed. " _After what I did to you_?!"

Hands like iron clamped down on Noriko's shoulders. There was blood caked under Setsuna's nails. Her sister glared down at her.

" _You're still my sister_." Noriko replied.

" _I don't- I can't even- how can you possibly-_?!" Setsuna spluttered. " _I'd imagined it. What you might say- what I might say if I had another chance. But not once- not ever did I imagine you wanting to see me again._ "

Slowly, she reached for her sister's face. Setsuna jerked back like she'd been burned.

" _Nori, don't. I don't deserve_ -"

" _Don't tell me what you deserve_!" She snapped. " _I got a second chance, and I'm using it to see you._ "

" _Why_?!"

" _Because you're my family! Who else would I come back to see, stupid_?"

" _That doesn't explain anything! Noriko, I_ -" Setuna's voice dropped to a whisper. " _I… it was my fault you died. I… killed you_."

" _I came back because I need to know why._ " Noriko said quietly. " _Setsu, what happened that night? How could you do that? It was like… it was like I met a stranger wearing your face, because the things you did were so… not-you that I couldn't believe it._ "

Her sister's face contorted with anguish, and Noriko felt a sick swooping sensation in her chest.

" _Please, sister_." Noriko finished. " _Just tell me why_."

A pulse came down the bond; Taylor signaling her. Their bond frayed, and Noriko pulsed back instantly. Not now. Not when she was finally getting answers.

Finally, Setsuna nodded. " _Yes… I'll tell you, and then…_ " One of Setsuna's hands clasped hers and closed Noriko's fingers around something hard. She looked down to find Setsuna's sword in her hand. The weight of it was terrifying. She was holding the weapon that had killed her.

Setsuna's grimace twisted into a broken-edged smile.

" _I'll tell you, and then you can kill me._ "

SPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAK

Minor edits from the original, changing all the Japanese dialogue to italicized, where in the original it was bracketed instead of quoted.

Just glancing over it while editing... oof. The rally was the point where I really started struggling with the writing, and it definitely shows here. It's so rigid, and you can tell I didn't quite know where I was going. It all feels off, and looking back on it is really frustrating at how much better it could be.


	20. 1-20, Setsuna, Noriko

1.20

September 3rd, 2006

Setsuna crested the steps in one easy teleport. The few fleeing vagrants glanced back at her and started running faster. One cried out with surprise at seeing her appear from nowhere. She let them go, giving them a head start into the maze of hallways. Her breath hissed between her teeth as she forced herself to wait.

" _One… two… three…_ "

The old shipping building was a veritable warren of disused corridors. All of the rooms were packed tight, and most looked identical but for variations in how dusty they were. She'd long since given up trying to orient herself. Not that she needed to. They were trapped here, but she wasn't.

" _Twenty-nine…_ "

Impatience won out. She'd meant to give them a full minute, but who was counting?

 _Move_.

Her jump took her to the end of her hall; the corridor meeting others at a bizarre intersection- a Russian cross of hallways. There were tracks in the dust where the vagrants had run, but she ignored them. Instead, she listened.

The shipping building was dead quiet. It didn't even creak like most old buildings did. For a few moments, all she had was the sound of her blood thrumming in her ears.

A faint rustling from the right path. Rapidly receding footsteps in the diagonal hallway. A crash from down the left juncture. Setsuna hesitated, and then went after to the rustling. One of the vagrants might be trying to hide. The noisy ones were too easy anyway.

She stalked past a series of closed doors before settling on one hanging ajar. The tracks in the dust confirmed her hunch, and she pushed the door open slowly, letting the hinges squeal and grind. It opened on a storage room, dozens of rusting file cabinets stacked in haphazard rows. Drifts of old paper lay across the floor from where rats had gotten into them.

A scuffling sound, quickly stifled.

Setsuna couldn't help it. She grinned. There _was_ someone hiding.

She strode past a stack of newspapers taller than she was. More tracks in the dust, peppered with tiny paw prints from vermin. Whoever was hiding was clumsy. They kept making little noises. She could hone in on them like a hawk. It wasn't even a power; just careful attention and focus.

When she turned into the second-to-last aisle of file cabinets, the vagrant actually gasped with fear. The sound was pitiful; the low, primal cry of a trapped animal. Utterly involuntary. They'd done a terrible job in hiding. She could see the edge of a coat peeking out of a gap between two cabinets.

Setsuna rapped her sword against the cabinet impatiently. This had been too easy. Barely a pursuit at all.

"You, come out."

She hated using English. Her words always sounded so stilted and awkward. The easy grace with the language Nori had was something Setsuna lacked. She kept meaning to learn it- Nori would appreciate it, but she just never found the time.

Quivering, the vagrant slid out from behind the cabinets. He didn't meet her eyes, just huddled deeper into his ragged coat. Hyperventilating already; so frightened that he couldn't even look at her. _Boring_.

"Run." She hissed.

His face, unshaven, road-mapped with burst veins, shot up to stare at her.

"Run, _now_."

She stepped aside, and the vagrant bolted like a frightened rabbit. He made it to the end of the aisle before she moved. The teleport was less than a step forward for her, bringing her out in front of him. He skidded to a halt just as the iterations drew their swords.

"No, please-"

The man's plea cut off abruptly as the blades went in.

Rapt, she stared into his face, watching him twitch as she cut him. Ten, twenty, thirty arcs of steel. Slow at first, then furious, again and again until the strikes blurred, building to a crescendo.

The final iteration twisted her sword, and the man split apart; a dozen fatal cuts triggered by one keystone strike. Setsuna cried out as his blood showered her; soaking into her shirt, staining her. Her hands were tight around her sword, clutching it to her body like a lover.

The vagrant was in pieces before he hit the ground, soaking the papers under them. The cuts were so clean that she'd practically cross-sectioned him. Her iterations blinked out, all wearing identical expressions of ecstasy.

The kill had taken less than ten seconds. From step to strike in a few heartbeats. The rush that followed lasted longer. Her iterations' memories flowed into her, prolonging the feeling with each memory. The kill, repeated again and again, from a score of different angles. Every bit of it like art; each impact of sword on flesh, every moment of resistance as she cut in.

Her hands were so tight around the sword it almost hurt. She needed to find someone _special_. Someone who could give her more.

It wasn't long before she'd tracked down the remaining three homeless and dealt with them. None of the kills were particularly interesting, and her excitement slowly faded. The initial thrill of the hunt diminished from the lack of challenge. The vagrants felt like the lead up to something bigger, something better, but there was nothing.

Her sigh blew a strand of hair out of face. The rest of her bangs stayed stuck to her forehead, stiff with dried gore. Coating herself in blood was fun only until the stuff dried. Now she was sticky and uncomfortable; her clothes ruined, her face a cracked mask of red.

Cleanup was going to be a nightmare. She'd have to dispose of the clothes, and then somehow bathe without Noriko noticing. Probably have to bleach the tub afterwards.

The whole affair was turning out to be a sticky mess. The days where she could be satisfied with a simple takedown in a back alley were gone. Her first girlish fumblings, so clumsy, but also vastly more exciting with their newness. The act itself was still enjoyable, and the rush it gave her was fantastic, but there were only so many ways one could cut their way through unarmed targets before it got a little old.

This hunt in particular… it was supposed to be better. Finally taking the itch off. Cutting loose like she hadn't done since she and Nori were in Thailand, almost a year ago now. Building from her previous, boring kills in the Bay. A leaden weight had settled itself behind her navel. A hunt hadn't ever failed to invigorate her, but this one had barely been good for more than a quick fix.

Setsuna eyed the final corpse. She'd split him at the top of a flight of stairs, and his lower half had gone tumbling down, spinning out viscera all the way. It had been downright artful. One of her best in recent memory, and doing it had evoked only a feeble sort of excitement. A detached pleasure; half of her distracted by her growing dissatisfaction.

She nudged the top half with her tennis shoe, considering kicking it down for a repeat. That might be… No. She was forcing it.

Maybe Lung was right after all. In the morning, she'd go see him and-

A door slammed shut down the hall. Setsuna looked up, still crouched over the corpse like a vulture.

The beam of a flashlight hit her. Squinting into the light, she could make out a dim figure in the hall.

"BBPD, show me your hands!" A man's voice. Decisive, used to giving orders. Cop or not, someone who sounded like that always meant trouble. If the cops were showing up, it meant her hunt was over.

Setsuna _moved_. The teleport was clumsy, her aim disoriented by the bright light. She came out not behind the man, but at his side. Blinking rapidly to restore her night-vision, Setsuna had to rely on her iterations' memories of the man, the copies at the end of the line already fading away.

He was buff, brown-haired, holding his pistol braced against his flashlight. A badge dangled from a chain around his neck. Street-clothes police officer, maybe.

When she appeared, he turned and fired with surprising rapidity. Better reactions than she was used to from a cop. The muzzle flash lit the corridor for an instant. The bullet clipping off strands of hair as she ducked.

 _One_.

The recharge on her power had never felt longer. She danced to the side again, forcing him to shift his stance. He fired again, missing more even more narrowly, the shot cutting a line of fire across her ribs.

 _Two_.

The man stepped back, keeping his distance as he realigned his shot. She lunged, already knowing she was too far away to stop the shot.

 _Three_.

Her power clicked back to readiness; the sound of an imaginary hammer pulling back in her head. Three seconds; her recharge as fast it had ever been.

 _Move_.

Setsuna stepped primly past the policeman. They turned at the same time, for very different reasons. He spun, raising his pistol, his eyes hard and focused. She turned to watch; to stare into those hard eyes of his as the swords went in.

There was no build-up here. Her iterations moved and struck as one, all business now. They pierced him; countless blades driven through and then held, pinioning him there.

He tried to say something. It came out as a cough; choked through a throat full of blood.

The iterations faded, and the man fell like his strings had been cut. The flashlight rolled away, illuminating a blank wall.

It took her a moment to realize that her heart was pounding.

What a difference a little resistance made! Not just wanton slaughter, but a _duel_. Life and death on the edge of a sword.

The hall door swung open again. A figure in white stepped through just in time to see Setsuna _flicker_ in place. Her iterations splattered the man, painting him across every surface with their ferocity.

Setsuna looked up, staring at the figure through a fresh coat of blood.

They- _she_ was small, wrapped up in a heavy white cloak. The doorway was almost ten feet away, and there were still patches of red blooming on the girl's cloak where the spray had hit her. Setsuna couldn't make out the girl's face under her hood, but what little she could see looked horrified. A sheaf of what looked like cards fell from the girl's nerveless fingers, joined shortly after by the girl's weapon- a baseball bat.

"D-Detective Wickman." The girl stuttered. Her voice was strangled, but she sounded oddly… familiar. "Oh God, Detective!"

Setsuna tasted copper as she grinned. She inhaled deeply, letting the metallic coin-scent fill her. Someone this young, out this late, in those clothes had to be a cape. And there was only one thing she wanted to do with a cape.

"Fight me!"

The girl whimpered and took a step back.

Wrong answer.

Setsuna _moved_.

The girl had admirable reflexes. The instant Setsuna vanished, the girl threw herself to the side, landing hard on the dusty tile. The iterations could have reached her if they'd stretched, but they waited, prolonging the struggle.

Let her fight! Turn and struggle for her life, like the Detective had. Use her powers to fight back! Do something- anything to-

The girl scrambled away across the floor, tangled in her cloak, but undeniably fleeing.

And just like that, the mood was broken; her fire quenched. Hunting down a fleeing cape was no different than hunting down those vagrants. If they didn't fight back, what was the point?

She sighed again. Maybe the next cape would be more exciting.

 _Move_.

Step and turn. The motion so practiced by now as to be muscle memory. She could watch their expressions as they died. Every movement of the blades played out across their face.

Step and turn and-

She looked into the girl's wide eyes, barely hidden behind a domino mask. Brown and tearful, desperate disbelief etched into them. Freckles sketched in a line across a pert nose. Short, black hair, mussed from her fall.

A face known better than her own.

The girl had time for two words before the iterations hit her.

The swords went in.

Two girls looked at each other, both faces twisted with horror.

The iterations flickered out.

The girl fell.

Setsuna stood frozen, looking out through a new mask of blood, the girl's final words echoing in her ears. Repeated ten, twenty, a hundred times. Again and again as the memories folded into her. On and on and on, replayed until they cut into her mind, and then onward still.

"Setsu… why?"

SPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAK

SPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAK

January 27th, 2011

"An… accident?" Noriko gasped.

She felt dizzy; off-kilter, like the world had suddenly shifted on its axis. The same numb shock she'd had when she'd seen Setsuna that night. Setsuna's manic grin had faded during her explanation; replaced with a smile so rueful that it was almost painful.

"I could never- _never_ hurt you, Nori." Setsuna said.

Setsuna reached out to her, and Noriko flinched in spite of herself. Setsuna drew back, clutching her sword instead; her smile nearly a rictus.

"Never you."

"What about all those other people? Detective Wickman, and… all the rest?"

Setsuna looked away.

"I never wanted you to see that part of me."

It wasn't the answer Noriko had been expecting. Excuses, or explanations maybe, but not this.

"How… how many?"

"I'd like to say 'too many,'" Setsuna said slowly. "But… that wouldn't be true." Their eyes met again. Setsuna's were far-off, remembering. "I started just after we met. To protect you at first. Keep you safe. Provide for you."

"No!"

Noriko's fingers found the edge of her cloak and knotted there, clutching at the thick material for support. It couldn't be. Setsuna couldn't have been- not all that time! She'd been working hard to support them, not… doing _that_.

 _Click_. Setsuna popped the first inch of sword from its sheath. The metal gleamed dully up at them, reflecting the kitchen ceiling. _Shuck_. She sheathed it. And again. _Click. Shuck. Click. Shuck…_

"I developed an… an appetite for it, after a while." Setsuna said.

She paused, frowning. The noise of the sword continued on, her hands working convulsively on the weapon. Noriko found herself unable to look away from it.

"I hoped you'd never find out."

The emotion she heard in Setsuna's voice wasn't guilt or sadness, but _embarrassment_. Setsuna was ashamed to tell her about it. Like she'd gotten caught doing something dirty.

A sudden roar shook the house. There was a crash, and then a cacophony of thunderous booms too loud to be anything but gunfire. The furious punctuation of a machinegun. Repeated again, and then once more, overlapping with another burst.

Noriko blanched. Taylor and Krieg! She'd completely forgotten when she'd seen Setsu. Krieg was dying out there!

"I've got to go back!"

"Stay." Setsuna said. She fell silent for a moment, listening. "That's Oni Lee shooting. His power makes it sound different."

Noriko pulled on the kitchen door, but Setsuna leaned into it, holding it shut.

"Don't worry about him." There was an edge in Setsuna's voice now. Desperation. "Go help your friends after we're done."

She tried to shove Setsuna away, but her sister was just too strong. She didn't budge, and the door stayed shut.

"I'm not going to kill you! Now let me go!"

" _Please_ , Nori. If you… if you won't do that, then just… give me your judgment so I can end it."

Noriko pulled at the door even harder.

"I don't want you to die either!" She shouted.

Setsuna's fist slammed into the door, and she loomed over Noriko.

"Then what do you want from me, Nori?! You came back for answers. I gave them to you. Now make it even and kill me so you can get on with your life!"

The icy silence that followed was broken by another round of machinegun fire from outside. The gunfire was split with sporadic explosions, and Noriko swallowed hard. It sounded like Taylor and Allfather were fighting World War Three out there.

"Setsu… you understand that… I'm not coming back, right?"

Setsuna stared at her; face slowly going slack.

"You… mean…?"

Noriko nodded.

"Oh." Setsuna said in a very small voice.

Noriko barely heard her over the clamor from outside, and the word still hit her like a fist.

"I-… Sorry." Noriko said, wincing. "I thought you realized… I'm only back to see you. When I said I had a second chance… it'll last until we're done."

Setsuna's sword hit the floor. She stepped over it without a glance. Noriko retreated before she could stop herself, her back hitting the kitchen door.

"You- _you_ -" Setsuna growled. "You idiot! Did I raise a blockhead for a child?! You get one chance to come back and you waste it on _me_?! Why didn't you be a hero for a day or something? Or go see that superhero you like? Something- anything besides me!"

Setsuna choked off, too angry to speak, gesticulating furiously at her.

"Sorry." Noriko said again.

Her sister's face twisted with rage, and she _flickered_.

Noriko had an instant of terror; flinching away from the memory of the last time she'd seen Setsuna teleport. A dark hallway. Blood and dust in the beam of a flashlight. A spray of warm, wet, _dead_ pieces of-

Strong arms folded around her, and her face met Setsuna's chest. The hug was almost bone-breaking.

Noriko opened her eyes.

Arms bloomed from Setsuna. Ethereal, almost ghostly. They overlaid the real Setsuna's arms in the embrace like an afterimage. After a moment, they faded, leaving only her sister's arms wrapped around her.

Setsuna smelled differently than she remembered. Of blood and a sharper smell that she thought was alcohol. But beneath those was the scent of Jasmine soap and sweat from a hard day's work. She smelled like memories. Of pressing her face to her sister's shirt when she returned after a long day. The smell of home; not a place, but a person.

"Setsu..."

"Damn you, Nori." Setsuna said, her voice muffled from where she had it buried in Noriko's hair. "How dare you be sorry?"

Something wet was hitting her hair. Setsuna sniffed, and then redoubled her hug, nearly lifting Noriko from the ground.

"How could you think that I'd be okay without you? I'm n-nothing." Setsuna inhaled raggedly. "Nothing without you."

Noriko had cried thinking of this moment. Cried a lot in general just thinking about Setsuna. It had hurt, thinking of her sister alone out there. That Setsuna might be hurting too and no one would help her. That she'd been hurting back then and Noriko had failed to notice.

Now that the moment was here…

"Second chances stink." She whispered. She rubbed her streaming eyes on Setsuna's shirt. "This is all so- so messed up."

"Yeah."

"I wish… I wish we could just go back to how we were. Just the two of us, together."

Setsuna didn't reply, but her crying intensified. Noriko kept speaking, relishing the warmth of Setsuna's body against hers.

"Just us, and we'd… just live. Travel around and stuff."

Setsuna managed a thick "yes" to that.

"And… nothing bad would ever happen." Noriko said. "No gangs or Endbringers or-"

"Killing."

"And no killing."

The moment spiraled out, just the two of them embracing silently, before another explosion sent dust sifting from the ceiling. Setsuna redoubled her hug, but Noriko knew they could both tell that the moment was broken.

"Setsu… I need to go help Valkyrie and Krieg."

Setsuna looked down at her, drew a long breath through her teeth, sighed, and then laughed softly.

"Always the hero." Setsuna said hoarsely. "Go on. But… promise me- _promise me_ , that you won't leave me again."

Noriko's eyes went wide.

"Are you sure? I mean-"

"Go." Setsuna's bitter smile made a reappearance. "You've wanted to be a hero since you were seven. And… you never got a chance, because of me."

"Where are you going to be?"

Setsuna bent down, fingers closing around her sword.

"Who do you think is going to be protecting you, Noriko? Besides-"

 _Click._

 _Shuck._

"I need to quit the ABB."

Noriko beamed at her. "You will? So you're going to stop…" She trailed off, unable to say what they both knew she meant.

Setsuna nodded. "That too." She sighed again. "That's… that's all over. That and- _oof_!"

Noriko's furious hug knocked the wind out of Setsuna. She buried her face in Setsuna's shirt again.

"I knew you could do it! I knew you wouldn't stay bad!"

Setsuna stepped back, her hands coming up to rest on Noriko's face. One callused thumb brushed away a tear.

"That makes one of us." Setsuna's smile was almost sunny this time. "I love you, Noriko, you know that?"

"I love you, Setsuna." Noriko said. And she meant it wholeheartedly. Her doubts and worries about her sister had never even touched the love she had for her.

Another explosion from outside, this one let off a noise like a tornado before it faded.

"Valkyrie is still in trouble." Noriko said. "Shall we? I'll take us."

"You'll take us?" Setsuna said slowly.

"Watch and see."

Setsuna took her proffered hand, and Noriko reached out, mapping out her runecards in her head. They were like pinpricks of light in a void; laid out almost like a star chart around her. Many of them were on her person, but a few were further out, matching up to where her bond told her Valkyrie was.

They _moved_.

The world compressed to nothing, and then-

 _Fire_.

The field outside the house was in flames, dry stalks feeding the blaze. Thick, black columns of smoke rose high into the sky, choking off the feeble sun.

She glanced around wildly, searching.

The house wasn't on fire yet, but something had smashed a hole the size of a truck in the dining room wall. Another hole matched it from the other side of the house, like something had plowed straight through.

A woman in a gas mask lowered a grenade launcher, staring at them.

"The fuck is this?" She said, her voice weirdly electronic.

"Runechild?" Someone gasped.

She turned. Valkyrie was behind them, kneeling over Krieg in a circle of scorched grass. Half her costume was burnt black, her cloak in shreds, the dress pocked with what looked like bullet holes.

"Noriko, get behind me." Setsuna said. Her eyes were hard; all business now. "You- Bakuda- hold your fire."

Bakuda stepped back, shaking her head in confusion.

Noriko ignored them, pushing past Setsuna toward Valkyrie.

"Valkyrie! What happened?!" She reached out to help her up.

Valkyrie winced at them. "Is that Black Kaze? Runechild, what-"

Noriko's hand met Valkyrie's.

( _contract complete_ )

She felt the change at once. A fundamental shift already started, even as she drew back from Valkyrie. Her fingers went first, losing color, then focus, then shape.

"Nori? Nori?!" Setsuna screamed from behind her. "What's happening?"

Setsuna seized her shoulders and spun her around, grabbing her arm where the change was occurring.

" _Nori!_ "

"Setsu!" She cried back. "I didn't think it would happen like this. My deal is done!"

The shift continued past where Setsuna held her; the arm going wispy. She could still feel it, but it was distant, not as much _hers_ now. It was a little frightening, but also somehow _right_. Natural.

A different feeling rose in her mind. Taylor's bond; intensifying, growing larger.

"Nori, don't- don't leave me!"

Noriko had time to brush Setsuna's face before her other hand went dark.

"I'm sorry." Noriko said. "I don't want to go, but I have to."

"What the hell?!" Bakuda yelled from somewhere behind them. "Kaze, what the fuck?"

"No! No no no _no_!" Setsuna was trying in vain to brush the change away, to push it back. "You can't go! Not like this! Nori!"

"Setsu… Please, don't be sad."

The change rose up her neck, streamers of shadow climbing into her vision. She was crying, tears falling down darkening cheeks. Taylor's presence flowed down the bond like a river of gold, filling her. She could feel herself fading; her vision going now.

"I… love you, Setsuna. I will always-"

The shift finished, and her lips were no longer hers. The wave of _Valkyrie_ submerged her, and Noriko sank into the well of Taylor's power; down into memory.

She was so _warm_. Content. Like… falling asleep, but…

They were… together. She understood… this was…

Coming…

…home.


	21. 1-21, Amy

1.21- Amy

The man in the bed smiled at her, his lips flat over toothless gums.

"Go ahead." He said.

Amy pressed a finger to his wrist, paused, and then lightly gripped the man's withered hand instead. Something Victoria had pointed out. Using her whole hand was more comforting; less like she was touching something unpleasant.

Outwardly, he was spry, in decent shape for an octogenarian. His insides though, were a mess of cancer. The largest, most severe growths were in his liver; tumors bulging like haphazard starfish across the surface of the organ. From there, the cancer had metastasized into the man's upper colon, twisting and contorting it. It was painful- she could literally tell how much so, but the man bore it with good-natured stoicism and gave no sign of the pain.

With a thought, she forced the cancer into remission and then further. The growths turned inward, consuming themselves. An appropriately ironic treatment for cancer. From there, it was a matter of a few minutes to repair the damage it had caused and regrow the formerly cancerous sections. Another moment to remove any precancerous cells. No sense fixing him now if he was just going to get it again in a year or two.

She finished with a general tune-up; joints, bones, muscles. The Works, Panacea-style.

The man blinked as she finished.

"Oh! I felt that. What did you do?"

"Almost done. How do you feel, Mr…?"

She couldn't remember his name. Hadn't even looked at his chart; not even the fake, cursory glance she usually did to put patients at ease.

Her unfinished sentence limped on for a few agonizing moments before she finally put it out of its misery and stared at him expectantly.

"Chapman." He supplied.

"Mr. Chapman." She appended. "Would you like me to do your teeth while I'm at it?"

That ought to distract him.

Chapman deliberated, sucking at his gums thoughtfully before finally nodding.

"If it's not too much trouble, Panacea."

She assured him that it wasn't.

Fixing eighty-years of wear and tear on his teeth took thirty seconds for her. They looked out of place in his mouth. Incongruously white and perfect, like new tile in an old house. Chapman was still clicking them together wonderingly when she excused herself.

His thanks floated after her, cut off mid-word as she shut the door.

Amy sighed and slumped against the wall, out of sight of Chapman's room. He'd been her… seventh? Eighth today? It had to be going on lunchtime by now.

The digital display on her phone blinked on and…

Ten-thirty-two AM.

Amy groaned into her hands. Days in the hospital were usually slow, but working with the argument hanging over her like an albatross was pure torture. The usual guilt and shame compounded by a fresh source of self-loathing. And there would be no respite from this. After the long penance of the hospital, she'd catch a ride home with Victoria. And then?

 _How could you, Amy?_

Carol's face, eyes gone narrow with suspicion.

 _Ames_?

Victoria was still sprawled out on the floor. Her expression of honest confusion made her look younger, almost childishly so. For an instant, not a bombshell, but an ingénue.

 _Do you_ know _those people, Amy? Those supervillains?_

 _N-no. I just- I met them and-_

Her own voice then, pitifully weak. Carol always made her feel like a child again. And that was… infuriating. Amy wasn't even her child. As Carol had made abundantly clear.

Amy took the stairs to the third floor on feet like lead. The gray morning light leaking through the windows only intensified her malaise. A few spots of watery sun came through the January cloud cover, but they were sparse, far in the minority.

Brockton Bay was just so damn _gray_ in the winter. Let it just rain or snow or something. Anything would be better than the disgusting rock-salt gray that currently stained every surface in the city.

She pressed her forehead against the window. The cold glass cleared some of her haze; set the gears working a little smoother. And she was still too tired for this. All of it. Tired of even thinking about it. Tired of _thinking_ , period.

The glass grew warmer, losing its refreshing chill.

 _What am I supposed to say to that, Amy? They offered you a deal? I thought you would know better than to- how would it look for New Wave if this came out?_

 _I didn't say yes! What was I supposed to do then? Tell them_ 'no' _and get my throat cut?_

She pulled away from the window, leaving behind a smudged forehead print and a spot of condensation on the glass.

The third floor was busier. The nursery and maternity ward took up most of the floor, and the traffic to and from was more active than the second floor's lethargic geriatrics unit. She wove her way past a knot of expectant parents and hangers on. One of the parents went wide-eyed at the sight of her.

Don't do it. Don't. Not now. She couldn't talk to anyone right now. Just moving forward was hard enough. _Too much_.

"Panacea!" The woman exclaimed. "Our daughter made it out of the ICU because of you!"

She pasted on her best smile. They couldn't see it behind her scarf, but Victoria said that it still made her more personable. Dean had agreed. Something about it helping create a state of mind. Not remotely what Carol had drilled into her about public relations, but it was the best she could do.

When had it gotten this hard? Because that was the worrying part. It hadn't always been this difficult. Where had all that gone? That… confidence? Competence. When had just _talking_ become so goddamn difficult?

She'd gotten weaker. Not just more fragile, but brittle, _weaker_.

Amy's smile faded behind her scarf, and she nodded her way through Mrs. ICU's praise. Mrs. ICU was halfway through introducing the other, equally grateful members of the ICU family before Amy managed to squirm free.

She really was in a hurry. Patients to heal and all that. Hope your daughter is well, etc.

 _Think of the public! What would Fleur say to know you were involved with the people who-_

 _How_ dare _you say that? I would never work with them!_

And yet she was still thinking about it.

Room 317 was just down the hall from Mrs. ICU. Amy slipped in the door to find the patient waiting at the window.

"Ah, Panacea. How nice to see you!"

She recognized this one at least. Miss Kwan, a frequent flier. Kwan had some kind of brain condition- one of the ones with a name ten syllables long that Amy only remembered because of how her power worked. The imbalances it caused in Kwan's body's chemistry accrued over time, and Kwan would be back for another session.

The healing took barely two minutes. How many of these two-minute increments had they had so far? How long was she going to prolong this woman's suffering out of her own selfishness? Because of Amy's _rule_ , Kwan got to come back every couple weeks to get her liver and kidneys rejuvenated so she'd stop pissing blood.

"I feel better already." Kwan said with a smile.

Amy tried to return Kwan's smile, scarf or no, and failed miserably.

"Goodbye, Miss Kwan." She managed.

"Until next time, yeah?"

"I'll be here."

Amy blinked back tears at the thought. There was no end to this. No light at the end of the tunnel. Just _this_. Hospitals, ad nauseam. An endless death march of sick and dying and her own disgust. And it didn't have to be that way. _Shouldn't_ be that way.

A normal person would enjoy healing. Would like helping people. Wouldn't have to worry about breaking the rule because they wouldn't have the rule. And they wouldn't have the rule because they weren't disgusting and sick like-

"Panacea," Miss Kwan interrupted. "Are you alright?"

Pain flashed from her fingers. A little cry escaped her as she looked down. Her fists were clenched so tight the nails were digging into the flesh of her palm. She unfolded them gingerly, her fingers stiff and clumsy. A tiny crescent of blood rose from one of the marks. Amy looked, and there was a fleck of what had to be _skin_ under that nail.

"Panacea?" Miss Kwan repeated, sounding nervous now.

Amy jerked her head up, forced her voice calm.

"Just fine."

She even faked the smile this time.

Mollified, Miss Kwan started gathering her belongings, and Amy left. The hall outside was still bustling with traffic. No fewer than three families held crying babies, and their cries drowned out the usual thrum of hospital noise. A harried looking RN gave Amy a rueful smile before vanishing into 317. She was glad that he didn't stop to chat. The staff knew her well enough by now to generally let her go about her business.

Amy's next stop was just down the hall. She traveled quickly, for fear of more families. Room 315, home to a man with a lovely case of… What the hell did he even have? Some kind of skin condition, obviously. Even with her immunity to diseases, Amy found herself shying away from him.

"Panashea, nishe to shee oo." The patient slurred. His smile was made gruesome by his condition.

She steeled herself and leaned in for a better look. He had lesions and pustules running in geographic ranges across his skin. Parts were peeled raw, with red meat shining through pale, ragged skin. Where it hadn't parted, his skin had bunched and blistered into mottled rows; so ridged that it reminded her of the warty outside of a gourd.

"Consent to heal?" Her voice was professional; her disgust hidden behind the mask she'd put up for Miss Kwan.

He rasped an affirmative, and she pressed a fingertip to the clearest patch of skin she could find on him- an earlobe. Public relations be damned; he looked like a leper. The blueprint of his body unfolded in her mind; less a concrete diagram and more just _knowing_. An impossible amount of knowledge comprehended in a single touch.

She set his skin healing. The landscape of bumps were smoothed and repurposed to fill the lesions. Pustules deflated one by one; sinking back into him in an odd reversal of their growth. Even by recycling what she could of the unnatural growths, she was still forced to dig into his body's reserves. As she healed him, Amy began explaining the various dietary concerns he'd have for his after-care.

"…And you'll need to get a lot of proteins to-"

Her phone rang. The tinny little jingle melded with the sound of heart monitors. Amy checked it.

 _Vicky._

"Please excuse me for a moment."

She paused the patient's healing. Not a good idea to let it just auto-pilot. He might get cancer or go Cronenberg or something. She gave him an apologetic nod before stepping out into the hallway, phone in hand.

"Hello?"

"Hey… Amy."

Two little words. Something eased in her shoulders; tension leaving her neck and hands. A loosening, an untwisting in her chest. Her lips suddenly dry. And then, as Victoria spoke again-

"Can we… can we talk for a minute?"

A jolt in her belly; a leap, like a step missed going down stairs.

"I'm here." Amy said.

She slipped away, moving out of the hustle and bustle into the alcoved doorway of a closed lab.

"Listen," Victoria began. "I… you're coming home, right?"

Amy still had a crick in her neck from sleeping in the hospital's on-call room. Frankly, she couldn't stand another second of the dreary place. But… What would she go home to, though?

"How's Carol?" She said.

Victoria hesitated. "Mom's…. she's still pissed off, but she's calmed down some from last night. I think she'd be okay to talk to you."

 _Haven't you learned anything, Amy?_ _I thought we raised you better than this._

 _You raised? Are you kidding?! My_ father _couldn't have done a worse job of raising me than you!_

"I don't think so." Amy said. "Vicky, I… I don't think I want to come back."

The words came at a whim, growing true as she said them. They'd opened too many old wounds last night. Vented too many secret resentments. Things said in anger that couldn't be unsaid.

"Ames, you- you don't mean that." Victoria, her voice tighter now. "I could talk to her, we could-"

"Ignore it? Forget about it until next time?"

"No, but-"

Amy continued on, gathering steam. She had to say it before she lost her nerve. Before Victoria asked her again and she folded like a coward.

"How am I supposed to go back there, Vicky? She doesn't trust me at all. I was scared to death by what happened and Carol only cared about what I'd done wrong. It could have been like Fleur, and- God, what was I supposed to do? It was a once in a lifetime opportunity!"

"I don't understand." Victoria said. "They offered you some weird dead cape thing, right? It's a scam."

"They _showed_ me. Skidmark was there, and Allfather. And I just thought… what if? Maybe I could just… just this once… and we could see Fleur again."

A muffled thud from across the phone line. Victoria's fist hitting the wall, probably.

"Amy!" Victoria shouted. "You can't trust the Empire! Mom was right about that. How would that look for New Wave?"

"So now you're agreeing with her? You think I'm bad news too?"

"I'm not agreeing with her, I'm… fuck, I don't know. It's just too good to be true."

"And Skidmark?"

"I don't know, Amy. There's all sorts of powers. Tinker holograms, illusions, mind control, I don't _know_. What I do know, is that you can't go breaking your number one rule for a bunch of Nazis."

"Fine. I get proof and it turns out this is legit. Then what?"

Victoria's sigh hissed into the phone. Amy could almost imagine her sister dragging fingers through her hair in exasperation.

"I don't know. But… listen, Amy. You're supposed to be the smart one here. Brains and Brawn, Guts and Glory and all that. And if _I'm_ the one shooting holes in this idea, then something is fucked up."

Amy sagged into the wall, her eyes on the ground so she didn't have to see the passersby in the hallway.

"You're smart." She said weakly.

"Not the way you are. You think things out. You're always the one to fix stuff when I mess up."

It was a sore spot between them. Victoria's impulsive behavior, and her own enabling of said impulsive behavior. For Victoria to admit it, to point out her own flaws, was almost unreal; a mark of how serious she was.

"Please, Amy. Whatever they offered you couldn't be worth the cost."

The cost. She'd compromise her rule to… what? Heal a stranger? Some dead girl's suicidal father. Was it really that earnest a request? Certainly too good to be true, coming from the Empire. They'd shown her Skidmark, but Victoria was right. These things could be faked.

And what did she get out of it? Her original desire was… it was stupid now. Some childish attempt to win Carol's approval. And her own. The former she no longer wanted and the latter? There was nothing that could make her loathe herself any less.

So why then?

"Amy, are you still there?"

Her sister's voice triggered it. The answer came to her, and Amy didn't know whether she was going to laugh or cry.

Victoria.

Not Carol's or her own approval. Not New Wave's, but _Victoria's_ approval. And wouldn't it just be _tragic_? Martyring herself, making such a _heroic_ sacrifice to help someone. Providing closure to New Wave in the process, yes, but wouldn't Victoria just love it?

Amy dragged herself away from the wall and into the stream of hospital patrons. The room numbers counted down as she walked. Rooms she was supposed to visit later. 312… 311… 310… Too many of them. 306… 305… 304…

"I'm going to get proof." She said doggedly. "If this is real… I need to see it through."

"So you'll come home?"

"I can't, Vicky. I just can't."

"Amy-"

Her voice hitched. "I'll see you when this is over."

She hung up, and mouthed the words she'd wanted to say instead.

 _I love you_.

Amy opened the door to 303. The man in the bed was as he had been, unchanged but for new bandages on his IV sites.

For the first time that day, Amy read the chart at the foot of a patient's bed.

Daniel Hebert, age 43.

She sank into the chair, the same one Empress- no, Valkyrie- had used before. All hard plastic and fake wood, it was positioned so that it faced the bed. Had they been waiting for her in 303, or had it just been a coincidence?

And what about the rally? Valkyrie had said something about this patient being that dead girl's father. So was healing him some kind of bizarre last request from the girl? The ghost of Taylor Hebert? It all sounded ridiculous.

It was ridiculous, but also too elaborate. Why go to all the trouble with the rally if they were trying to scam her? Frankly, she was less likely to agree now. Valkyrie was some kind of Nazi firebrand, and no one she wanted to associate with. It didn't add up. An Empire cape offering to help her, when the unspoken implication was that she'd pick Fleur.

Her phone rang, Victoria's number flashing on the screen.

Amy hung up for a second time.

She looked at Daniel Hebert, his face slack and stubbled. How easy it would be to reach out to him. Fix his brain in two seconds. Put the whole matter behind her.

Fleur's voice echoed in her mind. _If you're good at something, don't do it for free_. The woman's favorite phrase; surprisingly mercenary for someone as kindly as she was.

She just wanted to walk away from it all. No more wanting. No more pining. To be done with all the drama. Be _done_ with everything.

Amy balled up her fists in her lap.

No. She couldn't just heal him now. She had to be sure she'd get something in return. Because if she made an exception this once, on blind faith, what was to stop her from doing it again? From doing _that_?

That was the next logical step, wasn't it? Break her rule once to get Victoria's approval. Break her rule twice and get-

Her palms spiked with pain; nails digging in, slicing into the crescent cuts from earlier. Amy folded over in the chair. Folded in on herself. The tears stuck in her throat and eyes like burning sand and still wouldn't come.

Was that all she was good at? Not healing or heroism, but bullshit schemes to get her sister to love her?

"Dammit." She whispered. "What's wrong with you?"

Her nails bit deep, staining her robe.

Victoria called three more times before Amy finally turned her phone off. She half-expected Victoria to come to the hospital in person, but she never showed.

A little past noon, Amy stood and walked out of 303. She made her way through the maternity ward crowd, down the stairs, and out the front entrance. Walking away from the hospital was like shedding her skin, pulling out of an old, dead husk to be free.

The moment didn't measure up to how she'd imagined it. She was too colored by resignation to manage any excitement about it. Now it felt too much like running away.

She drifted down the sidewalk, leaving the hospital behind. Somewhere along the way, she shucked off her robe, discarding it into the gutter to walk in her street clothes. It should have been a weight off her back, but it wasn't. Her exhaustion ran too deep. Started too deep to be fixed by a change of costume.

God, she was so tired of it all.

Even this, all the drama and dilemma, was tiresome. Because she knew the outcome already. Knew exactly how things would unfold when she went to see Valkyrie.

Knew and didn't care.

Victoria would never love her.


	22. 1-22, Emma

Emma:

They made it to breakfast at the last minute. It was continental, set in a little room off the motel lobby. A maid was already bagging up the trash, but Emma and Sophia entered anyway.

Emma headed straight for the coffee, but almost immediately doubled back to help Sophia into her chair. The other girl sat slowly, holding her side with one hand.

"I can get it," Sophia grumbled.

Emma helped her all the same.

"Coffee?" She asked.

Sophia grunted her affirmative, and Emma departed again. Just moving around was hard. Like dragging rocks around behind her. She couldn't even imagine how badly Sophia must have been feeling. She had gotten more sleep than Emma, but her wound was still wearing at her.

The food at the buffet looked unappetizing. Rubbery sausage and eggs, squashy fruit salad, and pastries too sugary to do more than look at. Coffee came first. Dreadful, hospital- quality coffee, but coffee nonetheless. The first sip was warm, flowing into her like the breath of life. She groaned with relief. The maid gave her an odd look, but Emma ignored it.

Feeling a little more human, she made up a coffee and a plate for Sophia. It was a balancing act to get the food back to their table, but she made it, waving at Sophia to stay seated.

"I've got it, I've got it," Emma said.

Sitting down was a palpable relief; all the tired aches in her back and shoulders relaxing as one.

Sophia had scrounged a paper from somewhere. She looked up at Emma, eyes narrowed. "You're not eating?"

"Not hungry," Emma replied.

"Eat anyway. It's gonna be a long day."

Emma sighed, and returned to the buffet. She was hungry. Starving, in fact. Neither of them had been in the mood for dinner last night. Not after the rally. Just thinking about it made her nauseous.

A muffin and some fruit made up her concession to Sophia. The other girl looked at her again, shrugged, and returned to her paper. They ate in silence. Sophia ate slowly, clumsy with her off-hand, while Emma did little more than pick at her food. It all tasted like cardboard, settling thick and heavy in her stomach. She was drifting off between bites; so tired that she was waking up to find food halfway to her mouth.

She would have gladly gone the entire meal without saying anything else, when she turned her attention to the television in the corner. It was set to some news station, one of the bigger ones that her father liked. 'GNN' or something.

' _Violence in the North-East_ ' ran across the banner at the bottom of the screen. Emma leaned forward, trying to hear the anchor.

"… _Nine strike Boston. The parahuman terrorist group hit multiple locations late yesterday, including a school and church, leaving over seventy dead, and many more missing._ "

The screen cut away to a still shot of police standing next to a long, _long_ line of sheet-covered bodies.

"Soph, look," Emma whispered hoarsely.

"Mmh?" Sophia looked up from her paper, an orange slice in her teeth. When Emma pointed, Sophia turned in her seat to watch.

" _The search is still ongoing. Coming up at six, see our exclusive interview with Director Armstrong, head of Boston's Protectorate branch._ " The anchor paused for a moment, and then changed gears. " _The attack in Boston came just hours before violence erupted in Brockton Bay. A clash between local parahuman gangs and the Brockton Protectorate…_ "

Emma stopped listening. So much for the news. They were going to start in about the rally again. If she heard another word about the goddamn rally, it would be too soon. The news stations had only covered it _constantly_ since yesterday. It wasn't even _interesting_ news.

She stood and caught Sophia's eye. "Let's go back to the room."

They stayed close together on the way back, leaning on each other for support. Emma, too tired to do much more than drag her feet, and Sophia, hobbling, her face tight with pain.

"I don't need your help," Sophia had grumbled.

But she hadn't pushed Emma away.

The room was as they'd left it. Dimestore print on the wall, lumpy beds, and a collage of water spots on the ceiling. There were bits of personality here and there where she or Sophia had left something of theirs, and the stack of money by the coffee maker still gave her a start. They really ought to hide that.

Sophia sank onto the bed immediately, her face flushed. Emma locked the door before turning to her friend.

"Alright," Emma said, clapping her hands together. "Shirt off. Let's get this over with."

Sophia stared at her for a long moment, and then smirked. Emma stared back before it slowly occurred to her what she'd just said. Sophia's smirk widened, growing into a full grin.

"I meant- I was gonna- _aghh_ \- stitches! Your stitches!" Emma spluttered, her cheeks burning.

But it was too late. Sophia's usual scowl shattered entirely and she burst into laughter.

"It's not funny, Sophia!"

The other girl flopped back, laughing uncontrollably. Halfway through, the fit of laughter turned wheezy, and Sophia choked off, clutching her wound. Emma was at her side in a heartbeat.

"Soph?!"

"It's- okay," Sophia panted. "Just… pulled it."

Emma cringed. "Sorry. Can I see?"

Sophia nodded, and unzipped her hoodie. She was bare beneath it, her chest wrapped in bandages. The bandages were stained on one side, a line of red rosettes blooming across the fabric.

"You want me to wait, or can you handle stitching it now?" Emma asked.

"Now." Sophia said.

"You're sure? We could-"

"Now, Emma, _now,_ " Sophia snapped. "It was bleeding all through breakfast. I can't travel worth shit until we get it closed."

While Sophia peeled off the soiled bandages, Emma went to work gathering the supplies she needed. Most of them were contained in Sophia's Protectorate issued medical kit. It was, to Emma's knowledge, the only Ward-related thing Sophia had brought along. Even her beloved crossbows hadn't made the cut.

She was grateful for Sophia's practicality now. The kit was well-stocked. Bandages, tape, gauze, anti-septic spray, and- Emma picked up a little bottle and rattled it in Sophia's direction.

"You want a pain pill?"

Sophia pulled a face. "Nah. That Protectorate crap makes me nauseous. Last time I took one, I…" She hesitated before smiling wryly. "I was going to tell you not to tell anyone, but… anyway, I nearly puked in Battery's lap. She had to use her powers to get out of the way. Never heard anyone scream like that before."

Emma tossed the pills back in the kit. _Ooh_. There was a foil packet of caffeine supplements next to the painkillers. She peeled the blister pack open right there and knocked the pill back dry. Hopefully it would take effect soon- she was lagging badly. Just being still made her want to lay down and go to sleep.

She returned to Sophia, tossing the supplies onto the bed. It took a bit of positioning before they were comfortable; Sophia ended up sitting at the foot, with Emma behind her.

Sophia turned on the tv and raised her left arm, baring her side to Emma. The gash made an ugly line along her ribs; just shy from the bottom of one breast, stretching nearly the entire width of her side. The edges were red and inflamed, the scabbing mottled brown. The scabs had cracked in spots, letting blood ooze through. Not the first wound she'd seen Sophia get, but definitely one of the largest.

Emma squinted, threading the needle. "You know… I thought you'd know better by now. You _avoid_ the pointy end of the knife, remember?" She was trying to be playful, to cover her nervousness. If the cut had been a little deeper, Sophia might be in real trouble.

Sophia snorted. "I can't help it if gang-bangers have the most cash." She jerked a thumb at the stacks of bills. "Didn't see you earn any of that." After a pause, she sighed, her expression softening. "I'm going to try something different though, next time I go out. Fighting without a crossbow is a real bitch."

She started cycling through tv channels while Emma prepared.

 _Anti-septic spray… and then stitching. Wait, no. Sterilize the needle first. It was in the kit… but... sterilize her hands first. Then gloves from the kit._

She ran to the bathroom and scrubbed her hands. The fluorescent bathroom light was harsh, unforgiving. As she finished, she looked up. A stranger looked back at her from the mirror.

It was the hair that did it. Blonde, cut boyishly short. Sophia's work from a few days ago. Too big a change to reconcile. The dye job was one of the worst she'd ever seen- trailer-trash grade blonde from a bottle, but she didn't look much like Emma Barnes, and that was the important part. Sophia's cut suited her better. They'd kept her hair the same color but cut it even shorter than Emma's.

She returned to the room and pulled on the latex gloves from out of the kit. Sophia was still hunched over on the bed, sluggish streams of blood oozing from her side and soaking into the top of her pants.

"Ready?" Emma said, trying to sound confident. The noise from the tv wasn't helping.

" _Thirty-three found dead, in what is believed to be another attack by the Slaughterhouse Nine. Eyes on the scene report that the victims were sewn together as some kind of macabre display. This raises the total death toll in Boston to one-hundred-and-twelve. Police are still…_ "

Emma turned the set off. "Ugh." She didn't need _that_ hanging over her head while she was taking a needle to Sophia.

Sophia nodded in agreement. "Same crap they were showing earlier. They don't really give a shit about the victims." She bared her side to Emma once more. "Go on."

Emma couldn't help hesitating. It wasn't the first time she'd stitched up Sophia, but it never stopped being eerie. Jamming a needle into someone, sewing them up like a piece of meat. It all felt so… so unnatural.

Sophia turned to look at her, managed a small smile. "Emma, you can do this. Don't freak out on me."

Emma flushed. Hesitating was one thing, but being noticed for it was another. She steadied the needle, point hovering over Sophia's skin, and _pushed._ Sophia went stiff when the needle went in, all the muscles in her back and neck tightening, before Emma pulled the needle through, drawing the thread in.

"You okay?" Emma asked.

"Fucking do it." Sophia gritted.

In and out, yellow thread tugged the ragged edges together. Emma's stitches were clumsy and irregular; the product of a skill she'd never gotten the hang of.

One inch. Two inch. Three and- the thread ripped free from the skin. Red drops beaded along the split skin, raw, red flesh exposed beneath. The flow intensified, the scab opened wider now.

Sophia let out a choked, agonized gasp, her fingers dug deep into the bedspread.

"Shit!" Emma cried. "You-"

" _Keep going_." Barely a whisper. Sophia shook with pain.

Emma redid the stitch, skirting the torn section. It would have to be an extra-long loop for the next one. Like jumping over the bad spot. Blood smeared around it; stained the thread, her gloves, the sheets.

Fourth inch. Her unsteady hands made her stitches jerky, made worse by Sophia's panting, uneven breaths. Sophia's whole side went up and down, heaving uncontrollably.

Fifth. Emma stopped, letting her free hand rest on Sophia's back. She rubbed softly, "It's okay. We're almost done." Her touch found roughness, and she looked up. Scars, thin and pink, traced along her friend's back, divided the smooth skin like city streets.

 _How many times has she gotten hurt like this_?

 _Not now._

 _Concentrate._

Sixth inch.

Seventh. Emma blinked sweat out of her eyes. Were they done? How long had it been? She pulled the little pair of scissors from the sewing kit and snipped the thread.

"We're done," Emma said.

It took a moment for Sophia to respond. She blinked, and then seemed to come back to herself.

"Fuck, that hurt." Her voice was rough and breathless, like she was still holding in the pain.

Emma snorted. Only Sophia would describe motel room meatball surgery as "that hurt."

Sophia brought her hand up to gingerly trace the line of stitches.

"You shouldn't," Emma said.

"Just wanted to feel it for a second."

Emma's hand was still resting on Sophia's side, just below the end of the stitching. Sophia's brushed it, paused, and then settled her hand on top of Emma's. Callused fingers squeezed her gently.

"Good job, Em," Sophia said quietly.

"It was nothing," Emma said. Then she frowned. "Can I clean up now? And we're going to need to change the bedspread. Try not to bleed on the next one, hero."

Sophia snickered, but Emma's gaze fixed on the network of scars covering Sophia's back and sides. The newest cut was bloody and swollen, out of place among its pinkish fellows.

It wasn't the longest. Not even close.

The sight scared Emma. Scared the shit out of her, really. That was only what- two? Three years of cape work? They'd only made it a few days on the run before Sophia got hurt. What would happen next time Sophia got injured?

Or worse.

Once Sophia was re-bandaged, they both sacked out on Emma's bed. It was barely afternoon and they were already too tired to move. Emma lay back to back with Sophia, staring out at her side of the room.

The used medical supplies made a little tower out of the wastebasket. She'd have to throw those away herself. Not something to let room-service handle. Too suspicious. She'd cover their tracks.

That was for later though. She let the train of thought derail. Sleep wasn't coming like she'd hoped. Stupid of her to take that caffeine pill. She didn't feel any more awake or less tired, just… kind of… _present_.

They'd have to move again today. To another hotel, probably.

And then? Being on the run was its own goal, wasn't it though? It just felt… incomplete. Like they were aimless, just drifting along.

Beside her, Sophia was quiet, her breaths slow and slightly raspy. Emma rolled over. Sophia was on her good side, facing away from Emma. Up and down… the bandages around Sophia's chest stretched slightly with each inhalation. There were a few scattered dots of red, but the fabric was otherwise uniformly white. A good sign.

"Soph?" Emma whispered.

Silence, and then a moment later, "Mmh?"

She hadn't actually expected a response. Now she had to think of something to say.

"Do you…" _Know where we're going?_ "Are you…" _That was all wrong_. Finally, she said the first thing that came to mind. "Taylor. What do you think… about Taylor?"

"Fuck Taylor," Sophia muttered.

"I meant… about her powers. You said she had powers and…" Emma took a deep breath. "She triggered. I mean, it figures that she'd trigger from something so stupid as that and…"

Sophia was very still beside her.

"Don't." Sophia said. Her voice was deadly quiet. "Don't talk about triggers that way. Not ever."

"Sorry." Emma's face heated. "I just… I didn't mean… sorry."

"Go to sleep, Emma."

The silence that followed lasted long enough that Emma thought Sophia had fallen asleep, but then she spoke again.

"I think I get how Taylor feels. She's got power now. Makes sense that she'd come after us with it." Sophia chuckled softly. "It's what I'd do."

"She's still the same old loser," Emma countered.

"No. No, she's not. You…" Sophia trailed off, but Emma could fill in the blanks easily enough. _You're not a cape, you wouldn't get it._

"Could you tell me?" Emma asked, half-dreading the answer. "Explain it. I know I don't get it, but you and I are… kind of on the same wavelength, aren't we?"

More silence, and then Sophia rolled over to face her. The expression on her face was one Emma had never seen before. Eyes half-lidded, mouth quirked in a sort of grimace. Not angry. More… rueful. Offputtingly alien.

"You just can't leave things alone, can you?" Sophia said, raising an eyebrow.

"Sorry. I can- I can go to sleep," Emma stuttered. "Just forget it."

"Shut up for a second."

Emma fell silent immediately.

"I think… you, of all people would understand, if I told you," Sophia said slowly, "Because you've been there."

Neither of them needed to say it. _The alley_.

"If you could have, I think, it would have been there," Sophia continued.

Emma nodded. They'd discussed this before. Only once, but she remembered it well.

"And I came out stronger," She added. "So it wasn't a… complete loss."

"Right," Sophia agreed. "That's what powers are like. Except _more_. Everything bad that happened, plus the changes that powers cause. Like a… what's the word? A crucible?" She laughed under her breath again. "So yeah, not a huge surprise that Taylor went batshit when she got powers. Happens to a lot of capes."

Emma scooted a little bit closer. They were face to face in the middle of the bed now, like little girls sharing secrets.

"You're not worried about her… I dunno, coming after us?"

"Nah. Powers change you, but _Taylor_?" Sophia snorted.

"Like pearls on a pig," Emma said with a smirk. "There's got to be something there to build on. Like, before the- _that stuff_ happened to me, I was still pretty strong. Couldn't have got through it if I wasn't."

 _Taylor was strong_ _though. And she'd survived the locker. Somehow. So… wouldn't she be even stronger now?_

"And, I bet you were pretty strong before you got powers, right, Soph?"

Sophia's smile died, her lips suddenly tight, and Emma knew she'd overstepped. She was about to apologize when the other girl held up a finger. Sophia studied her for a long moment, dark eyes narrowed.

Finally, Sophia seemed to relax slightly, some of the tension leaving her face. "Never told you about that, did I?"

"And you don't have to!" Emma exclaimed. "It's okay, I didn't mean to- I mean… It's your business."

Sophia raised herself onto one elbow, moving carefully, minding her stitches. She looked down at Emma, face pale in the gray light bleeding through the curtains.

"If you tell anyone, I'll kill you. Not even a whisper. Not to anyone."

Emma nodded. She had no doubt that Sophia could and would follow through on her threats, but the dominating emotion here was… surprise. Sophia _never_ talked about her life before they'd met.

"You know about the alley." Emma supplied. "I've trusted you to not tell anyone that."

"And I haven't." Sophia said.

"So trust me." She sat up and spoke to Sophia eye to eye. "We're on the run together. I have your _blood_ under my nails. If you can't trust me at this point, I- I don't know what to say to convince you."

A weighted pause, and then Sophia grinned irreverently, her somber air evaporating. "We're renting _Thelma and Louise_ later. It's only right if you keep busting all these touchy-feely girl moments on me."

Emma punched Sophia's good shoulder. "Jerk. You're just lucky you have me along. Nobody else would put up with you."

Sophia responded with a vicious hair ruffling. "Please, if I weren't here, you'd be using daddy's money to get out of white girl prison."

Emma huffed blond bangs out of her eyes. "Sociopath."

"You know it, bitch."

"Literal manhunter."

"Aryan wannabe."

The lingering tension disappeared in a storm of insults. When they both ran out of steam, they ended up flopped across the bed again; this time buried in a tangle of mussed up sheets and blankets. Any earlier worries had vanished somewhere around the point where Sophia got her in a headlock and she responded with her frighteningly accurate knowledge of Sophia's ticklish spots.

"Geez…" Emma wheezed. Her sides ached. "It's like we're twelve again."

"Let's skip the pillow fight. I think one of my stitches popped," Sophia groaned.

"Sorry."

Sophia waved a hand dismissively. "Nah. I think we both needed it. Just… a break or something."

Emma rolled over to face her. "Do you… do you still want to tell me? About… you know? I mean, I won't tell anyone. And… it's good to talk to someone who understands, I guess."

Sophia started unknotting the sheets. She concentrated on working the tangle apart before responding.

"Yeah, okay, I'll tell you," Sophia said. She tugged the blanket free and set it aside. "Tell anyone and I _will_ kill you though."

Emma reached out and pulled the sheets over them. The world was suddenly reduced to the two of them, face to face under a cotton sky.

"Trust me," Emma whispered.

In flat, clipped tones, Sophia told her everything. Her friend's steady gaze wavered only once, near the end. Emma stayed silent for the entire story, kept any words of comfort to herself. Sophia didn't need them.

But when it was over, Emma excused herself to the bathroom. She cranked up the faucet to full blast, loud enough that Sophia couldn't hear her, and she couldn't hear Sophia. Without once looking in the mirror, she washed her face and brushed her teeth. It was another ten minutes before she opened the door. She spent the interval sitting on the edge of the tub, face against her knees, trying, trying so very hard not to feel pity.

Neither of them deserved nor needed it.

When Emma returned, the bedroom was gray and silent, Sophia still, facing away again. Emma slid in beside her, closer than she'd dared before. Slowly… so very slowly, she reached out and put a hand on Sophia's arm. After a moment, Sophia squeezed her hand. Didn't pull away.

No words were needed.

SPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAK

The sun was already going down by the time they woke. Neither had much energy for anything big, so they settled on walking across the street and getting takeout. It was stupid, but she still felt uncomfortable stepping into the little Chinese place. Not like the ABB were going to fall out of the woodwork.

It was only Sophia's presence that made her go in. The other girl was moving more easily than before, and seemed to have regained some of her good humor as well. Neither of them said anything about before, but Emma could feel the change.

A shared secret. It was a different kind of intimacy than she was used to from Sophia. Like they'd broken down a wall between them.

It was snowing lightly when they headed back to the room, food in hand. By unspoken agreement, they returned to Emma's bed. Sophia leaned against the headboard to protect her wound, while Emma sat cross-legged at the foot to better see the tv.

The room quickly filled with the tangy scent of her chicken curry. It was spicy enough that her eyes were watering just smelling it. When Sophia chipped in about sleeping on the floor if Emma had curry breath, Emma responded with her best death glare.

Her good mood lasted all the way until the evening news.

The " _Boston News at 6_ " brought another plastic-faced reporter's recollections of just what the Slaughterhouse Nine had done this time. Followed by another spot on the rally, now with follow up on some gang war in Brockton.

Emma wanted to beat her head against the wall just thinking about it. Brockton had gang wars every other week.

She turned off the tv, sent the remote spinning over her shoulder.

"Bunch of news morons." She muttered.

Sophia didn't look up from her box of takeout. "Mmh." She grunted.

"I was thinking though," Emma said slowly. "Maybe… maybe it's time we leave."

Sophia raised an eyebrow. "We were going to check out in a few hours."

"No, I mean- _leave_ , Sophia. Leave Boston." Emma held up a hand. "Hear me out first. The Slaughterhouse is in town, and you're hurt, and we're only an _hour_ from Brockton. Anybody who wanted to come after us is right there. Boston is the most obvious place we could go."

"Where were you thinking about going?" Sophia said, chewing thoughtfully.

"Anywhere! We can go _anywhere_." Emma flung her arms wide, like she was spanning the world. She was pushing this hard, trying to sell Sophia on the idea. "Just think. We'd be so far away they'd never catch up. You think- I dunno- Denver gives a crap about what happened in Brockton?"

Sophia set her pad thai on the nightstand and turned, giving Emma her full attention.

"I didn't plan on us staying in Boston forever," Sophia said. "And now would be a good time. Especially with the Nine here. That's bad for us."

"You don't think- I mean, what are the odds?" Emma exclaimed.

"Not the odds. The _attention_ ," Sophia said carefully. "I've seen it before. S-Class threats attract a lot of attention from the Protectorate. Give it a few days and Boston's gonna be a fucking mess. The capes in this town were already batshit- Accord, the Teeth, I forget who else, and it's them against the Nine. And the whole time, the media just eats it all up. We don't want to be anywhere near that shitstorm."

Emma grimaced at the thought. "Yeesh." She thought for a moment. "I think… somewhere out west."

"Oh?" Sophia looked interested. "Why?"

"It was your joke about _Thelma and Louise_ that made me think of it. Not Mexico, but… just out there. Somewhere where we can fall through the cracks together."

"Just us?" Sophia said.

"Just us," Emma repeated. "Like… a pack. A pair of predators."

There was a long pause as Sophia looked at her. And then she smiled.

"I'd like that."

SPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAK

The train tickets were monumentally expensive, but they shelled out anyway. Money didn't mean quite the same when Sophia could recoup it with a bust or two.

Boston's Gray Line would cycle through, ending at a station on the far side of Boston from them. From there, they would transfer to a different, interstate train line. Apparently it was an affiliate company partnered with Boston's transit service, so they were able to get the tickets in the subway.

And from there?

Getting away from Brockton was like a dream come true. No more gangs or capes. No more looking over her shoulder for the ABB. Nothing but the open road. Or something poetic like that. Really, anything far, _far_ away from Brockton would be nice.

The final station came at the end of a rail bridge over the river. Outside, the Boston skyline blazed with light, reflected in the dark waters like a kaleidoscope. Even the clouds above were lit up, burnt dull orange by the light pollution, blotting out the stars.

Beside her, Sophia sat quietly, watching the other passengers.

"Almost there." Emma whispered.

Sophia squeezed her hand reassuringly.

The tunnel swallowed up the train. There were a few seconds of darkness, and then the station opened up before them. The stations in Boston were much larger than she had expected. Nearly cavernous. High, vaulted ceilings, more akin to the kind in DC's Metro. The platform was equally scaled, a wide expanse of tile nearly forty feet wide. There was a flash of _something_ and- one of the other passengers stepped into her view

"What the fuck is that?" Sophia murmured.

Apparently she could see something Emma couldn't. But everyone else in the car was looking out now, crowding at the windows. The train ground to a halt, and Emma craned her neck, pushing a businessman aside so she could see.

The platform outside was _red_. Splashes and splatters of gore were painted across the tile as though some mad artist had gone and selected a pallet of nothing but arterial reds and brain matter gray. And the _train_. The train on the other side of the platform was…

"Oh God. Oh _Jesus Christ almighty_." Someone in the car whispered.

The other train's passengers were stacked next to it. Limp, naked bodies in a heap, like cordwood. As she stared, one of the bodies twitched. _They're still alive_. The first two train cars were full, loose bodies packed together inside. She couldn't see exactly what had been done to them, only that the bodies seemed to have melted together, forming a web of meat and skin across the walls and floor.

 _-the victims were sewn together as some kind of macabre display-_

And there, leaning in the open door to the third car, was a little girl in a smock. She was bloody to the elbow, splattered enough that her blonde curls were red and stiff. A striped, nude woman stood beside her- _oh fucking Jesus that's the Siberian_ \- nodded at something, pushed another body into the train car.

There were others there, scattered around the platform, not watching the little girl, but the new train. The train that she was on. _Capes_ , her brain supplied _._ There were _capes_ outside. No- not just capes-

"Soph, it's- it's _them_." Emma whispered.

"I know." Sophia said. She'd gone pale, fingers locked around Emma's.

The Slaughterhouse Nine. She could see seven, and seven was enough. The human looking ones were the worst. At least the monstrous ones wore their inhumanity on the outside.

Monsters. All of them.

Worst of all was the man standing dead-center, hands on his hips. Tall, blade thin, with his hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. Handsome in a rakish sort of way. She recognized him on sight.

"That's Jack Slash." She said it without thinking, and the tremor of fear that ran through the car at her words was palpable.

The train doors hissed open, and no one moved.

Jack Slash stepped forward. He jingled when he moved; a dozen knives at his belt clinking together.

"Ladies and gentlemen of Boston, welcome to the first annual Slaughterhouse Nine art show." His voice echoed through the station, all charm with a hint of laughter behind the words. He spread his arms wide like a showman. "We ask for your help in making Bonesaw's show the best it can be."

In the next train car up, someone started screaming. The other passengers were shifting, trying to move away from the open doors, climbing over each other to get away. Emma just stood, pressed against Sophia, too stunned to move. A moment later, Sophia's hand slipped out of hers.

"Soph?"

The dark-skinned girl looked back at her. "When they get started, I want you to run. Forget the bags and just go, okay?"

Emma gaped at her. "And where are you going to be?!"

Sophia's voice was barely a whisper, hard and serious as iron. "Buying you time to run."

"No!" She grabbed Sophia's arm, but the other girl pulled away from her again. "It's suicide to go out there!"

Sophia jerked her thumb at the other passengers. "I've got meat shields, I'll be fine. If it gets bad, I can just run for it. I'm more worried about you."

From outside, Jack called again, sounding inordinately amused. "No takers? None at all? I think we may have to start choosing then." He paused, rubbing his chin. "I think… Burnscar, pick a car. Medium-rare."

One of the Nine stepped forward. A dark-haired woman with flames rippling over her like a second skin. With each step, the blaze intensified, blood smears boiling under her feet.

"Emma, get down." Sophia hissed. She pushed Emma back and stepped in front of her.

But the woman, Burnscar, chose the next car up. She ambled up, hands in her pockets, taking her time.

A man burst out of the next car, running wildly, unwilling to wait for death. It set off an avalanche of motion. The other passengers in the car made a run for it, and the other cars followed. Hundreds of commuters poured out of the train, all running for the exits. Others pulled the back doors open and scrambled down onto the tracks. Sophia threw their bags aside and seized Emma's arm, pulling her into the crowd. In an instant, the station was filled with a cacophony of screams.

And then the Nine charged. She couldn't see most of them over the tide of panicked people, only saw shattered bodies thrown up as the capes plowed into them. A massive, tentacled _thing_ , like a panther the size of an SUV, bellowed, its roar reverberating even over the tumult.

Someone slammed into her, and she lost her grip on Sophia. The other girl was swept away, gone in seconds.

"Sophia!" Emma shrieked. She tried to fight her way to where Sophia had gone, but going against the tide was impossible. _No no no- wait- there!_ An opening in the crowd! Emma forged toward it, clawing her way forward.

Something crunched under her foot, and she glanced down. A corpse crumbled beneath her, burnt to charcoal and ash.

She realized far too late that the opening in the crowd began next to Burnscar, the crowd scattering around her like water around a rock. It didn't save them. Anyone who drew too close earned a lash of flame, scouring them to the bone. The woman's hand flicked out like serpents, casting balls of fire at everything she saw. Already, a pile of dead surrounded her, tripping newcomers with limbs like burnt twigs. The smoke from her victims clogged the air, turning the area into a choking miasma.

Emma pushed back, trying to rejoin the flow, but the fleeing travelers formed a solid, terrified wall around them.

Burnscar turned and saw her. The woman's face was blank, almost vacant, her eyes glowing red. Emma stood like a deer in the headlights. Already she could see the flames gathering in Burnscar's hands, searing hot even a dozen feet away.

Emma's lips formed the word, but she knew she'd never get it out in time. The world was slowing down, two heartbeats long, stretched into an eternity. Burnscar raised a hand, slowly, so very slowly, it seemed. Emma screamed, her body dull, unresponsive, like she was in a dream where there could be no escape.

The fireball flared and-

" _Sophia!_ "

And then she was _there_ , spinning out of the crowd in a blur of shadow. Burnscar turned, her eyes widening, just as Sophia coalesced. A feral smile crossed her friend's face, and she ran, snapped out of focus, just in time for Burnscar's flames to go over her head. Sophia leapt and flung her arm wide. Bits of shadow rained down over the pyrokinetic cape and into the crowd behind her.

Sophia snapped back, landed, and turned to catch Emma's arm. Behind her, Burnscar staggered, her features going slack, and then fell, flames already dying out one by one. Others, the crowd that the shadows had touched, had fallen too, clutching at limp legs or bleeding arms.

"Soph-" Emma gasped. "H-how!?"

Sophia opened her hand. She had a palm full of…

"Spare change?"

"Like a shotgun. Phases back inside someone." Sophia said. She wasn't looking at Emma anymore, her eyes moving rapidly, scanning the crowd. "Get going. You-"

A sound like a bomb blast from the entrance. The crowd fleeing up the stairs were broken, sent flying like ragdolls. Bits of ceiling rained down, shattering the bodies and skulls of those below. The monster- the panther thing stood at the top, blockading the exit with its chthonic body. As she watched, it dug its front set of legs into the stairs and tore out great chunks of concrete, hurling them into the crowd.

There was no exit.

"Shit." Sophia hissed. "I- you need to hide. It'll be like fish in a barrel if they can't get out."

She pulled Emma with her, and they slid down onto the tracks, between the train and the platform. There were others there, passengers hiding, praying for the right moment to run. Others were fleeing into the tunnels.

After a moment, Sophia stood to peek over the edge of the platform. Emma did the same, and instantly regretted it.

Sophia had understated it when she referred to fish in a barrel. It was a _massacre_.

Near the front of the other train, a woman with a cloak like shifting scales lifted a hand. Every train window near her exploded outward. The glass rose before driving into the crowd near her like a storm of shining hornets, flaying the skin from their bones in a matter of heartbeats. The panther-thing was working its way down the stairs, killing everyone it could reach with sweeping arcs of its many limbs. Broken bodies lay in its wake, some still screaming.

Other atrocities abounded. A doll creature was spinning through the crowd, ball-jointed arms working madly to cripple and maim. As she watched, it pinned a woman to the ticket kiosk and-

Emma bent down to vomit, heaving bile into the gravel beneath the tracks.

"Oh god. Oh my god." Her lips were numb.

This couldn't be real.

Sophia's voice seemed to come from a great distance. "Emma, Emma listen to me."

Emma staggered to her feet again. Wiped her mouth.

More scenes of carnage. She couldn't look away. Needed to.

Barely twenty feet down the platform, the little girl in the bloody apron walked hand in hand with Siberian.

"Bonesaw," Sophia whispered.

The girl, Bonesaw, was even tinier up close, barely waist-high to Siberian. Bonesaw held a test tube in her free hand, sending up gouts of white smoke around them. Anyone who drew into the smoke fell back, choking. A second later, they'd fall to the ground, limp and twitching like the passengers from the first train. None of them got up. Any who fell were swept up by the horde of mechanical spiders trailing along in the duo's wake.

Bonesaw stopped, frowning at one of the bodies strewn across the tile. "Burnscar's dead?" She put her hands around her mouth. "Jack! Burnscar's _dead!_ "

Siberian patted her on the head consolingly.

Bonesaw sighed, and then said something to Siberian that Emma couldn't catch. Siberian nodded, and then took off across the platform, stopping only to grind a man's skull into the floor. The girl started going through her pockets, pulling out supplies.

Sophia grabbed Emma, pulled her down again. Emma tried to stand, but Sophia pressed her against the side of the platform.

"Listen to me," Sophia said, her voice stiff with forced calm. "I need you to go. Run for it."

Emma shook her head frantically. "N-no! I won't leave you. Not to this."

"I'll be fine. Trust me. My power is perfect for this kind of thing. They won't be able to catch up."

 _How does she know that though?_

Sophia continued, "Emma, I need you to be a survivor, okay? You can get through this."

The words cut through the fog in her head. She was dead weight here. Nothing but another liability for Sophia to watch out for.

"Y-yeah. I can… I can do that."

"I know you can," Sophia said. "Now go."

But neither of them moved. They stayed there for a moment, huddled away from the carnage. The reprieve could have lasted a minute or an hour, Emma wasn't sure. She didn't think about it, only kept her eyes on Sophia.

The other girl crouched down and began gathering handfuls of gravel off the tracks, pocketing them for more ammunition. Her whole body was tensed, coiled ready for action.

Not for the first time, she envied Sophia. Sophia had it together, even now. Where did all that confidence come from? All that strength. Her surety. Her-

There was a crash from above. From the sound of breaking glass and tearing metal, it might have been a train car. It didn't matter though. The moment was broken.

Emma stood slowly, her whole body shaking. _Focus. Follow her lead. Be confident like her._

"I'll meet you at the last hotel, okay?" She reached out, brushed Sophia's cheek with her hand. "Come back to me, hero."

And then she fled. Behind her, Sophia pulled herself onto the platform.

"Hey!" Sophia shouted. "That's one down. Six more of you fucks to go!"

The last glimpse she had of the station was of Bonesaw stepping aside, making way for Jack Slash. He smiled at Sophia; gave a mocking salute with his knife, said something. She stood tall, the only living person besides the Nine still on the platform.

Emma hurtled down the tracks. The third rail was live, the electric hum vibrating in her chest. But she was out- away from the crowd. There were dead on the tracks, fallen from above, but she ignored them, forced herself onward. In no time at all she stumbled into the tunnel, headed back out the way they'd ridden in.

She was panting, exhausted already, hot tears of fear running down her cheeks. _Sophia_. _Oh god, Sophia._ The tunnel was barely lit, and she fumbled along in the dark, the ragged sounds of her breath filling the air.

The exit, and then- She was out, cool night air fresh on her face. The same Boston skyline stared back at her from across the water, unchanged, and yet different in every way. The bridge was ahead of her. Narrow tracks, suspended over the water. She'd have to balance across the ties to get across. There were other people escaping that way already, picking their way down the line with frantic motion.

She could do this. If they could do it, she could too.

The bridge stretched out, seemingly endless. Just one step at a time. One railroad tie at a time, watching out for the third rail and-

A noise behind her.

Someone moved in the darkness of the tunnel.

Hope rose in her, washing away her fear.

"Soph? Is it- is that you?"

Yellow eyes flickered in the gloom, and with dawning horror, Emma watched as the Siberian stepped out of the tunnel. Her white stripes were almost incandescent in the dim night, rippling sinuously across sculpted muscle.

"Oh shit. Oh _shit_." Emma whispered.

The Siberian was smiling- _No._ Not a smile. There was nothing human behind those eyes, she could see that now. An imitation of a smile, black lips drawn back to expose pointed teeth.

The striped woman came forward, closing the distance with long, sure strides. The shaky, uneven rail bridge didn't seem to bother her at all.

Forty feet. Thirty. The Siberian was taking her time. Stalking her. There was no way Emma could get away, not from her.

 _This is what prey feels like_.

Sophia wasn't coming.

And Emma wasn't going to make it back to the hotel.

Twenty.

She looked down. The river below her was black, too far from the city lights to catch their illumination. How cold would it be?

Fifteen feet.

The Siberian lunged suddenly, moving so fast that all she saw was a blur of stripes.

Emma threw herself from the bridge. The river rushed up at her and-

 _Cold_.

So cold she hadn't even felt the fall. The pain came a moment later; cold so sharp it was like knives, and new- something broken in the fall.

The tide threw her back and forth, nearly dashed her into the bridge's struts with its idiot force. Her clothes weighed her down, pulled her under like bands of iron. Water closed over her head, fingers clawing helplessly into the open air before they sank below the surface too.

She should have stayed in the station. Then at least they could have died together.

Not like this.

Not alone like this.

Not-

 _Stars_

SPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAK

Not getting to continue Emma and Sophia's arc is one of my greatest disappointments of this story. I was really excited to have them get pressganged into S9. There'd be a lot of suffering and pain, but I think I'm such a sucker for them as a pairing that I'd let them both come out of it alive.

Probably.

Anyway, I consider this the best chapter of the entire story. It could probably stand on its own if I changed it around a little.


	23. 1-23

1.23-

In retrospect, taunting the strongest cape in the city wasn't my brightest moment. It had worked though. Lung had all his attention on Allfather and me. He wasn't going to interrupt Runechild. And considering that she was almost certainly speaking to her homicidal sister Black Kaze, she needed all the privacy I could give her.

It just meant that now Allfather and I were facing the remaining might of the ABB, with the added handicap of having the critically injured Krieg in the room.

"Come on dragon!" Allfather yelled. " _HORRIDO!_ "

He came in with a blade in each hand, and smashed into Lung with a noise like a car crash. Bakuda and Oni Lee were forced to dive aside as the two brutes went careening through the doors into the foyer. A second later, Allfather came flying back to rebound off the remaining pocket door, shattering it to splinters. The impact barely slowed him. Before the dust had even hit the floor, he was back in action, swords whirring around him like angry hornets.

Lung's retaliatory burst of fire was hot enough that _I_ felt it. Forty feet away. As a ghost. The foyer lit bright orange for a moment before Allfather tackled Lung again. They went thundering out of sight, shaking the house with the force of their combat.

I had my own concerns though. Krieg was hurt, probably dying. I needed to get him out of the house, get him to a doctor as soon as possible. I wasn't being a Good Samaritan here, I reserved _that_ for people like Runechild. Krieg? I loathed him. He was all Allfather's negative aspects, minus his charm. But I needed Krieg. He was my in to the Empire. We had a deal, and I wouldn't be the one to break it.

Now I just had to get him past the entire ABB while keeping him from bleeding to death.

The entrance to the dining room was currently blocked by Bakuda and Oni Lee, but there were two other doors. A side hall perpendicular to the entrance led to the kitchen and Runechild, with another door at the far end of the room leading elsewhere.

I crouched, pulled Krieg's arm over my shoulder, and stood. Or tried to. Good _God_ , he was heavy. Being a ghost didn't make me any stronger. I strained, and barely managed to lift his upper body off the floor. The wood was wet beneath him, soaked with his blood. I jerked, trying to get him moving. Once I started, I could build momentum and-

Krieg's jacket slipped out of my grasp and he hit the floor with a meaty thud. I winced as Krieg moaned with pain, but didn't wake up.

"Valkyrie!"

I turned my attention back to the remaining ABB capes just in time for Bakuda to raise her grenade launcher. She jerked her head at Lee.

"Go back up Lung, I can handle Bloody Mary here."

Oni Lee nodded to her. A moment later, a cacophony of machinegun fire started up across the house. It was only when Lee crumbled into ash that I realized that he'd already teleported.

Bakuda scoffed and kicked Lee's ashes, "Don't need a fucking babysitter." She turned to speak to me, raising her voice to be heard over the gunfire, "And you... Your friend must have a death wish, going up against Lung like that." She let the barrel of her launcher play over us. "You're not going anywhere soon, so why don't you fill me in on some things?"

An obvious threat. There was close to two-thirds of the dining room between us. Miles too far to move before she fired. Krieg was basically a big, stationary target, and I wasn't much better.

"Don't want to talk to me?" She shrugged, feigning hurt. "Maybe I'll just start shooting now, wipe out your friend."

I bit my lip. _Damn it._

I summoned Michael between Bakuda and myself, blocking her line of fire. The drain was immediate and noticeable, like submerging my hands in ice water. Michael didn't waver though. His body was mine, his movements mine. I forced him to stand tall and confident.

He spoke my words, our voice a chorus. "What?"

"Ah!" Bakuda's body language indicated joy, even if her respirator stripped all the emotion out. "She talks! Valkyrie, was it? Tell me, what in the world did you do to piss Black Kaze off?"

Michael shrugged for me. "It's a long story."

She laughed flatly, "This is a hostage sitch. I've got time."

I glanced up. Bakuda hadn't moved away from the door. She was holding her distance from us. Probably so she could shoot freely if she needed to.

I started dragging Krieg away, letting Michael hold Bakuda's attention. The Nazi cape wasn't getting any lighter, and his jacket was hard to get a grip on. This time, I tried holding his arms and dragging him like a flour sack. It wasn't any easier. The dining room floor was scattered with wrecked furniture and broken wood. His coat caught and hitched every foot or so, and he was leaving a distressingly long line of blood in the dust.

"Stop moving!" Bakuda snapped.

Michael raised his hands defensively and took a casual step the side to block any possible shots from her. He was distracting me nearly as much as Bakuda. I hadn't quite mastered controlling him. He could act autonomously or follow my orders, but taking direct control of him took more effort. The multi-tasking kept tripping me up. It was like trying to write with both hands at the same time.

Splitting my focus took concentration that I couldn't spare. I itched, felt the phantom force of Bakuda's glare, but didn't look up. The fragments I could glean through Michael's eyes told me that Bakuda was still at the front of the room, pacing back and forth angrily.

"Good to know that I'm less interesting than Captain Corpse there," Bakuda huffed. "Last warning, Valkyrie."

"I, uh, have a question," I said. "What made you bring a grenade launcher to a fist fight?"

Said grenade launcher was suddenly pointed directly at me. Not Michael. Me.

"Are you calling me stupid?" Bakuda hissed. "Because-"

Holy shit did she have a short fuse.

"No!" I interrupted. It was hard to sound earnest with our voice, but I tried my hardest. The distraction made me drop Krieg again. The front of his coat was sticky, the makeshift bandages I'd applied were soaked through entirely. His wound had opened up while I moved him.

"No no no," I continued. "I just - it seems like a hazard. Like there's a good chance of friendly fire."

Bakuda's grenade launcher remained pointed at me. She was actually quivering with anger.

I backpedaled frantically, "That's not me calling you stupid! It's just…" Michael waved his hands vaguely. "A grenade launcher!"

Bakuda stared for a long, terrifying moment. Any second, I knew she was going to pull the trigger. Krieg would die. I would probably die also. It would be over. I had no way to avoid a-

I blinked.

But I _did_.

Michael and I grinned. And then I returned his shard to my power. In his place, I called my secret weapon.

"Skidmark! Barrier now!"

The Merchant cape came into existence with his cape flaring. He glanced back at me, shot me a yellow-toothed grin, and turned back to Bakuda.

"Nice fucking try!" She shouted.

They moved like gunslingers, blurring into motion at the same instant. Skidmark slapped his palm into the floor, color flaring around it like an oil slick. Bakuda pressed her grenade launcher to her shoulder and fired. The sound was unbelievably quiet, barely audible over the sound of gunfire.

 _Shunk_.

For a moment, we all stared at the sight.

The grenade hung in the air, spinning forward in slow motion. Skidmark had caught it. Dropped a barrier barely two feet square. As I stared, he pulled his hands back, elongating the strip. The grenade round spun on.

Bakuda fired twice more. The rounds whirled into Skidmark's barrier, boring along behind their predecessor.

Skidmark slapped down more barriers, overlapping the first, spreading the patch with each. He forced line after line down, turned the streak so dark it was almost black. And then the first grenade slid backward, slowly at first, moving faster with every inch. The other two followed close behind, reversing their trajectory in midair.

"Dodge this!" Skidmark howled.

He slammed down one final barrier. Bakuda had barely a second to fling herself to the side before the grenades shot back at her, rocketing out into the foyer.

The explosion that followed brought with it a burst of arctic air. The dividing wall frosted over, and then cracked down the center from the snap freeze. A second later, a wave of flame finished the job that Lung had started, the ice _shrieking_ as it flash-fried. The third explosion came as a blinding flare of silver light.

I blinked away spots to find the foyer transformed. The dividing wall was gone, broken to pieces by the blasts. What remained was a landscape of crystal. Bakuda's grenade had covered the foyer with a thick growth of sharp, mirror-bright crystal. It paled in comparison to what my shards looked like, but I couldn't deny that it was beautiful in a terrifying way.

Bakuda staggered to her feet, loose snow and ash falling away from her clothes. She was making an odd, rasping noise, like something caught in a fan belt. It took me a moment to realize that she was panting, clutching her leg as she stood. She turned, and I saw that she'd gotten caught in the blast. Her left leg was stiff, frosted, and bits of her hair were singed. After a moment, she leaned over, pulled her mask up and vomited in the corner.

I got to my feet. I'd finish this now.

"It's about time you got your shit together," Skidmark muttered.

He moved to stand at my shoulder, his thin hands clenching and unclenching as he eyed Bakuda. "Got any more orders you want to give? Cotton to pick, maybe kiss your feet?"

We stared at each other for a moment before he grinned again.

"I'm just fucking with you! Don't be so goddamn serious all the time, little bitch."

I managed a small smile. He couldn't see it behind my scarf, but I thought he got the idea.

"Sorry," I said. "Can you-"

I staggered, and Skidmark caught me.

He frowned. "What's wrong, kid?"

His words swam down through a haze, barely understandable.

 _Cold_.

I was cold; frozen to the elbow, my vitality trickling away to feed my ghosts. Cold was a bad sign. It meant that I'd over-extended; gone past a limit and started spending the same energy that let me exist.

"I've got too many of you," I gasped. "Go, I'll call you again soon."

With a thought, Skidmark's shard returned to my well. He faded, giving me a one-finger salute as he went. At once, my thoughts kicked back into full motion, and the feeling of icy cold creeping up my limbs ground to a crawl. The song drifted back into background noise.

The loss hadn't stopped entirely though. It continued to flow down my two remaining bonds. Barely a hair to Runechild, while Allfather's kept spiking as he took injuries. And I couldn't return either of them. Not without bringing Lung, Lee, and possibly Black Kaze down on my head.

I had a time limit. A ticking clock measured in seconds of my life.

Across the room, Bakuda straightened up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Think you're… think you're funny?" She wheezed. "Sh-shooting it back at me? Laugh it up. It only worked once."

She began fumbling for her grenade launcher. It hung on a sling at her side, but she was having trouble holding it, her hands shaking as she moved.

I glanced back, Krieg lay limp and still behind me. He'd looked half-dead before. Now he just looked dead. Only the lack of reaction from his shard told me he was still alive. I wasn't the only one on a time limit here.

The dining room was massive, but not so large that I couldn't make it to Bakuda in time. I took off, scattering dust in my wake. Skidmark's barrier shimmered up ahead, but I didn't falter. I couldn't navigate it like he could, but I didn't have to.

I was halfway when I suddenly stumbled, my limbs shaking with the effort of running. Keeping Skidmark out had cost me too much. Ahead, Bakuda raised her weapon, the barrel wavering back and forth drunkenly. I staggered on, forcing myself to keep moving.

 _Can't do this alone._

"Skid, back me up!"

He came out in a heartbeat, moving alongside me.

"Quit fucking around and speedball that bitch!" he yelled.

With a snap of his fingers, a streak shot down the room, extended through his previous strips, aimed directly at Bakuda. And then he forged two steps ahead and grabbed my wrist. He stopped, pivoted, and then swung me into the speed strip like a rag doll. The instant I was in motion, I unsummoned him.

Hitting the strip was like stepping onto a rocket. I shot forward, moving so fast that I lost my balance and went flying, screaming all the while. I couldn't manage a battle cry like Allfather, but I did my best.

" _Hooorrrriiidoooo_!"

Bakuda steadied her weapon, but she was too slow. I slammed into her like a missile. We tumbled into the foyer and rolled to a halt on a pile of crystallized debris. I landed heavily, partially atop Bakuda, and my hand-wrapping tore as it caught on a crystal spike. Bakuda shrieked metallically as we landed, the force of the impact scraping her across the rough crystal.

She was winded, panting behind her mask, but she seemed to channel her pain into sheer anger. I'd barely steadied myself when she started writhing under me, trying to get free. She clawed and ripped at my clothes, her fingers passing harmlessly through my insubstantial form.

Intangibility was finally coming in handy. Using my costume as a medium meant that I could touch her, but not vice versa. And there was nothing she could do about it. Even when she punched me squarely in the face, I barely felt it. The force transmitted through my scarf and rocked my head backward, but there was no pain. Pain was for the living.

The transparency in my limbs was still rising, but I was moving now; _ready_ , thrumming along with the song _._ I could ignore the unnatural lethargy the energy loss had caused and let the momentum of the fight carry me.

"Get the fuck off me!" Bakuda yelled.

I punched her in the face, my knuckles clanging against her mask. Bakuda swore again, and then hooked her fingers into the front of my dress. At the same time, she wrapped her legs around me and rolled. Suddenly I was on the bottom, with the furious cape above me.

"Nazi cunt!"

She caught my throat with one hand, went to work pounding me with the other. Her blows were clumsy, more what I expected from myself than a supervillain, but each one knocked off a little sliver of my energy. Her force came through just enough to damage my body, force it to heal.

Her next punch slammed the back of my head into the floor. I deflected her fist with my elbow and then grabbed at her mask. My fingers caught her respirator and I yanked it askew. Bakuda started flailing wildly; trying to fix her mask at the same time she was hitting me.

I couldn't get my legs up to roll like she had. Instead, I knocked her arm away, and threw a punch of my own. Bakuda gave a muffled cry as I connected with her exposed chin. She fell back, clutching her face. I kicked free from her, knocking her against the shattered remains of the wall.

"Dammit, you-" Bakuda snarled. "Lee! Lee, back me up!"

She had to yell to be heard over the cacophony coming from across the house. I wasn't sure if Lee would even be able to hear her, but I still felt a rush of panic. Oni Lee would kill Krieg. There was no debating that.

"Shut up!" I shouted. She couldn't hear me.

"Lee!"

I kicked out at her again. Bakuda twisted to the side and scrambled away. Her grenade launcher lay a few feet away.

"No you don't!" I yelled.

I rolled to a crouch and dove at her like an animal. For the second time that day, I slammed into her. My hand-wrap ripped entirely this time, came away from my hand in loose strips. My now bare hand phased through her and I lost my grip. Bakuda shoved me away, going for her launcher again.

I needed to stop her. Fast and hard.

I snagged the back of her vest with my good hand and pulled. She clutched at the crystal growth, trying to claw her way forward. It meant that she wasn't looking when I drew Allfather's knife from my belt. I dragged her back and lunged at the same time. We fell in a tangle, grappling on the floor again. Her blows were wild, but also weak, slowed by exhaustion and pain. She tried to roll again, but I straddled her, forced her back down.

"Get _off!_ " Bakuda cried.

But this time, I had the knife in my off-hand. I couldn't touch her without my glove, but I could touch the knife, and with it-

"Don't move," I growled.

She still couldn't hear me, but the knife to her throat made my point better than any words could. Bakuda froze.

"You haven't got the guts, Valkyrie," she panted.

She swallowed, and red beaded against the knife blade. I stared down at her.

 _Now what?_

I could… I could kill her. End it here. I'd be free to get Krieg out, with a new ghost to boot.

A second bead of blood joined the first.

Bakuda adjusted her mask with one hand, moving slowly and non-threateningly. She shifted it until she could see again; her eyes narrowed with hate behind her red lenses.

Another ghost meant another contract. Another shade. Another sliver of life restored to me. Another step closer to Dad…

Elsewhere in the house, I could hear the clamor of Lung and Lee going at it with Allfather. Their fighting didn't overpower the song though. It continued on, humming away in tune with my shard, calling for me. A wordless promise of what I'd gain. That I could come back some day, and all I had to do was _take_.

"You're not a killer," Bakuda rasped. "Just a jumped up Nazi piece of shit." She laughed viciously as her hand went to her vest and settled on a grenade. "I'll take this whole fucking house with me."

I'd just have to kill her first.

I tensed my fingers around the knife. Took a deep, meaningless breath.

I'd do it for Dad.

 _And what would he think?_

The thought ached in my chest. He wouldn't think anything. He was in a coma because of… because of the Trio. And Bakuda was far worse than them. Could I let her walk away, let her do to others what was done to me?

What was the benefit to letting her live?

Her hand clenched around the grenade. My hands were shaking almost as much as hers; the knife quivering, touching her skin, pulling away. But why? Why were they shaking?

This felt… it felt right. Completely and utterly _right_. Perfectly natural to have a knife to her throat. To do more. To _take_.

And that… that was a red flag. It shouldn't feel this _good_ to murder someone. There was a disconnect. A line at which _I should_ , met _I know this is wrong_. Morality against instinct.

 _No._

"No," I repeated aloud.

Dad had taught me better than this. I might not feel it, but I damn well _knew_ what was right and what wasn't.

I turned the flat of the knife to Bakuda's throat. She went still for a moment, and then let out a rasping laugh.

"Called it."

I leaned back, but didn't release my hold on her. Instead, I called Michael.

Bakuda's eyes went wide behind her mask as the shade loomed over her. For the briefest instant, I saw the bottom of his foot reflected in her goggles. And then Michael stomped her head into the floor. _I_ stomped her into the floor. Felt the lenses break under my heel.

I caught her vest and pulled her up, looked her in the eye. She was limp, muttering something distorted by pain and blood, made totally incomprehensible by her respirator. I pushed, and she leaned back bonelessly, her head lolling, at the perfect angle for Michael.

For once, he moved in perfect synchrony to my will. He raised his fist high and brought it down like a meteor. The blow shattered his knuckles against Bakuda's mask and propelled the back of her skull into the floor with a sickening crunch.

She stayed down.

I managed a small smile. _That_ was a happy medium. One that would satisfy Dad. Merciful didn't mean stupid, after all.

Michael had to help me up. His hand was mending by the time I stood, the smoke that formed his fingers shifting until they were fixed. Even shades had their limits, it seemed.

I let him go immediately after. Summoning him had cost me, and letting him heal had added to it. Every minute meant more of my stock depleted to fuel Runechild and Allfather. As it was, I felt like my limbs had been replaced with frozen lead. The cold had spread alarmingly far, extending its icy fingers into my chest.

I stumbled back into the dining room. Krieg lay sprawled across the floor where I'd left him. His bandages were soaked through, the blood oozing out to cut fresh tracks across his dusty coat. Any second now, I expected to hear his song. It was an outright miracle he hadn't bled to death while I was fighting Bakuda.

"C'mon," I said.

He couldn't hear me, and for once, I was glad.

I rewrapped my hand with strips from my sleeve. They didn't fit quite the same, but I couldn't lift Krieg without both hands. Lifting him earned a groan of pain, but he didn't wake. I could only drag him like before and even that was an ordeal. I was getting weaker by the moment.

Krieg's blood trail formed a u-turn as I dragged him back toward the foyer. Skidmark's strip wasn't far from where Krieg lay, and would help me make better time. The crystals would probably tear the hell out of his coat, but I didn't know any other way out of the house. Once we-

I paused, mid-step.

Allfather was getting closer. A lot closer, very quickly.

The house shook, and the sound of breaking wood carried to me. The realization of what was about to happen occurred too slowly. With a thunderous crash, the wall burst apart in a shower of plaster and wood, and Allfather and Lung exploded through like a pair of runaway trains.

Lung skidded to a halt, his claws cutting furrows into the floor. He was _massive_ ; close to twice Allfather's height and still growing, his head brushing the ceiling.

Allfather wasn't backing up - Lung had hold of him and had bludgeoned him through the wall. He had one of Allfather's arms pinned, but the Nazi ghost had the other free to slash at every part of Lung he could reach. He drove a knife into Lung's eye, and Lung bellowed with pain, hurling Allfather aside. Allfather hit the opposite wall and landed hard; his armor scorched and steaming, parts glowing cherry red.

Lung turned, his burning gaze settling on me, one eye a weeping, bleeding socket. There was no trace of the man I'd seen before- he was all dragon now.

And then he roared. This wasn't the roar of pain from a moment ago – this was primal, inhuman; something that cut straight to the most primitive parts of my brain to wrap them in a blind panic.

I lifted Krieg, heaving him forward with desperate strength. Skidmark's strip was only a few feet away. Cold fear overpowered even the chill of energy loss. _Lung was coming!_

Michael blinked in, both of us straining to lob Krieg forward onto the strip. Behind me, Lung barreled forward, unfaltering even as Allfather fired sword after sword into his body.

I pushed, and Krieg hit the strip and went spinning away. I turned, just in time for Lung to fill the world.

The room spun, whirling madly on its axis. There was a flash of peeling ceiling below, and then the floor rushed up to meet me. I landed hard enough to bounce, and came down face-first.

Something was burning. I could smell the smoke. There was heat again, but I barely felt heat anymore. The cold dwarfed it. More now; my energy slipping away to fix my body.

"…rie! Valkyrie, get up!"

I pulled my face out of the floor. Lung had knocked me the length of the dining room. A little further and I'd have had a face full of crystal shards. A few feet away, Krieg slid by, still unconscious, on Skidmark's speed strip. It was a ridiculous sight. Surreal, even. Like a Nazi Roomba. But it was good. I'd gotten him out of the path of danger.

And now I just had to worry about Lung.

"Valkyrie!"

Allfather's shout brought me back to reality. I forced myself to one knee and surveyed the fight. Allfather had recovered and was making his retreat. Wait - that wasn't right. Allfather was deliberately holding his distance. The array of swords orbiting him forced Lung to walk into a meat grinder if he wanted to attack.

"I'm up!" I yelled. "Krieg's out of the way."

"Good!"

The rest of Allfather's response turned into a grunt as Lung earned a brutal downward slice to the arm. Hot, steaming blood spattered the floor, and Lung drew back, his forearm gashed to the bone.

Allfather rushed in, taking advantage of the opening. His swords whirled into motion like a chainsaw, sending scales and gore flying as they shredded into Lung. Lung held up his injured arm, letting it take the blows. Steel met flesh, and steel won. Lung's forearm went spinning across the floor, fully severed. It didn't stop Lung for a second. He waded forward, ignoring Allfather's blades to close in on him.

"Go!" Allfather bellowed.

I didn't hesitate. Allfather was in his element here. I wasn't going to be much help against Lung. Krieg was my main concern; he was depending on me.

I hurried out of the dining room into the foyer. Krieg lay in a heap where Skidmark's strip had flung him. His hat had fallen off at some point, and his face was ashen beneath his mask. If Runechild didn't settle whatever she was doing in the next few minutes, I was recalling her, contract or no. With her power, I could evacuate Krieg in moments.

The front door was gone- Allfather had kicked it off earlier, and Bakuda's grenades had left the frame a scorched husk. And-

 _Bakuda_.

A glance across the foyer confirmed it. The ABB bomber was gone. Come to think of it, where was Oni Lee? Had he grabbed Bakuda? She was probably still unconscious, but his absence wasn't a good sign. The last time he'd disappeared, he'd come back with reinforcements.

All the more reason to get the hell out of here.

I took a final glance back. Allfather was surrounded by so many swords I could barely see him through the vortex of spinning metal. He screamed something raw and wordless, and Lung answered with his own roar. I turned away, dragging Krieg, the sound of clashing metal following behind me.

Leaving the house was like stepping into another world. The field of tall grass rustled in the wind, the sky slate gray but cloudless. It was unbelievable that there wasn't something more- some outward sign that there was a battle going on just inside. I'd have settled for sirens in the distance. The police or the Protectorate would be a welcome sight compared to what I was facing.

I heaved Krieg across the trash-strewn porch and down the front stairs. He thumped on the stairs, and I took them as fast as I could before heading back into the grass. A trail of bent leaves marked my path from earlier, and I took it in reverse.

Around us, signs of Black Kaze's rampage remained like landmarks; bloodied grass, dirt churned to mud, scraps of cloth caught on leaves. The path I was following- now traced with Krieg's blood as I dragged him, looked identical; just another bit of carnage in the middle of a battlefield.

And there was nowhere to go. No escaping. The closest house was the one Oni Lee and I had stood on that overlooked the field, at least a quarter-mile away. A quarter-mile of empty field, with no cover to speak of.

"Runechild, where are you?!"

If we lived through this, I was buying a cell phone. One for each fucking ghost if I had to.

Energy burst down my bond to Allfather. More than at any point so far- he was hurt badly. But I was running on empty, cold all the way through. Murmuring a silent apology, I choked down our bond, forced the energy to the barest thread. Allfather wouldn't be able to heal now, but it was him or me.

I hauled faster, stumbling with the burden behind me, so cold I expected to see my breath. I was getting tired - _I was getting_ _tired._ That shouldn't even be possible. I forced through it, every step an ordeal. Just as I started to find my momentum, Krieg jerked to a halt and I tripped. He was caught in the grass, his long coat tangled in the stalks.

"C'mon!" I gasped. "C'mon!"

Pulling harder only made him groan with pain. I scrambled back to untangle him. The ragged edges of his coat were snarled with creeping vines and thorny brush. One look, and I knew I'd never get him free in time. Not with the way Lung seemed to be man-handling Allfather. Instead, I planted my foot on Krieg's coat and pulled on it with all my might. One by one, the fine silver buttons of his coat popped off. I yanked his coat open, began pulling his arms free. Just a little more. Just a little more and-

My fingers passed through his arm.

My wrappings had slipped, fallen away to reveal my hands. They were past cold; numb and clumsy. I could see the grass through them. I was going transparent; so far gone I couldn't even stay solid.

I rewrapped my hand, and took hold of Krieg again.

My hand slipped.

The wrappings hung free, dangling from my wrist.

They hadn't come off. They'd fallen through my hand.

I was losing my substance.

"Hey Valkyrie!" It was a hateful, artificial voice I knew too well.

Bakuda stood on the porch, leaning heavily against Oni Lee. Her mask was dented, one of the lenses missing. The demon-masked cape didn't look much better than she did. His combat vest was slick with blood, and makeshift bandages wrapped around his arms and belly. Bakuda seemed to be supporting him as much as he was her.

Oni Lee was behind this. They hadn't been there when I'd come out. He'd taken her away, revived her, and come back.

"Catch!" Bakuda shouted.

And then she heaved her grenade launcher up.

I had a terrible instant of realization.

 _She waited. She waited until I looked_.

Ghosts came at my call- Michael and Skidmark, standing between me and her. Something inside me _broke_ , screaming at the violation.

 _Four at once_. Spikes of ice jabbed through my body, the very fabric of my being wavering. My energy didn't drain. This was a dam breaking, my lifeblood pouring out, spilling down the bond to them.

"Block it!"

Bakuda fired.

Michael died first, hurling himself forward to take the shot. The grenade hit him head on and exploded in a burst of emerald green flame. Skidmark turned to throw down a streak beneath us. It hit the grass and fizzled out, useless on the irregular surface. He died a half-second later as the blast consumed him. And then-

 _It stopped_.

The explosion had expanded to the size of a car, and then impossibly, stopped there. It was like Bakuda had made a _sun_. I was a good ten feet away, but the heat was like standing next to a blast furnace. The sphere rippled, and then a burst of scorching heat expanded around it. The grass didn't burn- it skipped burning and turned to ash in a heartbeat.

I seized Krieg and started pulling him away. We made it three steps before I lost my grip. The wrappings on my good hand- the only reason I could touch Krieg, were sinking into my skin. I readjusted- Had to get him away.

Another step. Bakuda was laughing in the background. Krieg's skin was red and raw, blistering.

 _No. no. no._

Another surge of heat ripped through the air. My clothes heated, and then further. Black spots bloomed on my dress and sleeves, expanding. Meaningless. It was just a dress. As long as I could grab Krieg, I was-

My hand came away again. The wrappings were falling through, my body too insubstantial to hold them. Throwing my ghosts away had cost me too much - energy I hadn't gotten back.

 _No no no no!_

I couldn't readjust my wrappings. I needed working hands to do that.

What was I supposed to do?!

Krieg's coat was smoking, little tongues of flame appearing at the edges.

Had to do something.

I threw myself across Krieg just as the sun ignited for the third time. It flared, turned the world white, searing my eyes. The wave of heat swept over me, setting the grass and brush alight. My dress was burning away. Beneath me, Krieg's mask was charring, any exposed skin searing. I put a hand over his face, but it was useless. My wrappings were crumbling to ash between my fingers. I wasn't enough to shield him. Nothing corporeal. Just cloth.

And then, just as suddenly as it had come, the sun collapsed in on itself, fading away to nothing.

I blinked, trying to clear the blizzard of black spots across my eyes.

Slowly, my vision cleared, and I had to force myself to look down, to see what I knew was there.

Krieg was limp, his coat burning in spots, his face a mess of burnt flesh and melted mask.

The fires were beginning to blaze in earnest now, spreading through the dry grass and sending up plumes of thick smoke. Bakuda walked through the haze, leaning on Oni Lee as she came.

"Christ, you're like a cockroach," she said. "The C60 didn't do shit to you, did it? But I got _him_ at least. That's-" Bakuda's laugh turned into a ragged cough. "A start. Thought I was losing my touch."

Soot flaked off my dress as I moved. My right side, closest to the blast, had flash-burned to a stiff black husk. I had my knife, but how was I supposed to use it? My hands were barely visible now, little more than patches of rippling space. The loss was spreading up my arms, and I could feel an odd instability in my legs that had to be the same.

 _Now what?_

Krieg was going to die. Nobody walked away with wounds like this. _I_ could barely move, let alone carry him.

It was over.

The two capes stopped a dozen feet away, skirting the edge of the blast radius.

"Who gives a shit though?" Bakuda said flatly. "Krieg, he's nobody. You- I'm gonna make sure that all anyone remembers about you, Valkyrie, is how badly you died. I don't need Lee's help for that. You're gonna be a fucking monument to what happens to anyone who fucks with me."

She separated from Oni Lee, limping forward on her own. The teleporter stalked to the side, keeping his line of sight to me clear. Either one would be too much to handle.

Time to cut our losses and go. Leave this nightmare behind.

"Ready or not, Runechild."

I reached out to her shard to pull her back, but she was already in motion.

With a _pop_ , the tiny superheroine appeared before me, hand in hand with a dark-haired woman.

"Valkyrie! What happened?!" Runechild bent to help me up.  
I winced at her. "Is that Black Kaze? Runechild, what-"

Our hands met.

( _contract complete_ )

The change began at once. Runechild started losing her color, her skin turning black and smoky. Black Kaze started screaming, Bakuda was yelling hoarsely, but I ignored them.

Runechild's shard was resonating with mine, our bond shifting. With every second, my sense of _her_ grew stronger, feelings growing where there had been only a dull awareness before.

Runechild's color faded away, and then her detail. Her edges became indistinct, wisps of shadow streaming off her skin like smoke. She was weeping, crying out to Black Kaze in Japanese. Her sister answered in kind, her words shrill, hands clutching at Runechild, trying to push away the change.

The shift crested, the darkness rising in inky fingers up Runechild's face. She spoke one last time to Black Kaze, and then it was over, the shadows blanketing her skin completely. Her eyes shut for a moment, and when they reopened, they were dark, the irises the only spot of color left on her.

I reached along the bond to her, trying to catch hold of the fading spark that was Runechild. Words didn't translate along our bond, nor did feelings, but I tried all the same.

 _You found her._

I hoped she heard me.

And then there was _life._

The reward of a contract completed. It came on like a bomb, my senses so strong they _hurt_. Suddenly, I could feel the chilly wind on my skin, the charred grass prickling and jabbing at my bare flesh. I inhaled, tasting the scent of burning grass and smoke. Even coughing felt amazing. The feeling of breathing- in, out, in, out…

My knees hit the ground, the hot earth burning them. Runechild sagged, caught in Black Kaze's arms.

And there-

I touched a trembling hand to my chest. My heart was beating, warm blood flowing through my veins.

Someone yelled something. I ignored it, taking in the deluge of _feeling_ that was hitting me. I was breathing. My blood flowed. I could touch and feel and smell and it-was- _AMAZING_.

A hand seized the front of my dress and heaved me up.

"Valkyrie!" Black Kaze screamed in my face.

Her grip was cutting off my air.

"Bring her back! Bring her _back_ , damn you!"

She slapped me, shook me.

Please, let her do it more. Even pain was incredible.

Please-

The world went cold around me. Just as suddenly as it had come, the ecstasy ended. I blinked once, tears rolling down my cheeks.

 _Dead again_.

It was like going blind, deaf, and numb all at once. I was _more_ now though- just the barest fraction more, in some way. A tiny step closer to a true resurrection. It didn't take the sting out of losing those feelings. Not even close.

Slowly, I refocused on the world, wiped away my tears. My gaze settled on the small, dark shape standing a few feet away.

Glowing brown eyes looked back at me from under a smoky hood. She was frowning, her hands knotted in her cloak.

My worries about feelings and life were suddenly distant; washed away by reality.

Because beside Runechild, with the barrel of a pistol against her temple, was Bakuda.

"Kaze, get out of the way," Bakuda said.

Black Kaze went still.

"Let go of my sister."

"Your sister is dead," Bakuda said in the tone of someone explaining something very obvious. "Lung told me. She-" Bakuda coughed wetly, actually leaning on Runechild for support. "Sh-she died ages ago. It's why you're such a sorry drunk."

Black Kaze turned around, hand on her sword, her whole body tight with barely restrained violence. Oni Lee stepped up, flanking Bakuda. The sub machinegun in his hand didn't rise; he held it at his waist, a warning.

"She's gone," I said. Runechild repeated my words. Her voice was the same as Michael's now. Choral; mine, hers, and Michael's voices all speaking from one mouth.

Black Kaze flinched as though I'd struck her.

"Nori, I- please don't say that," she said. "I'll find a way to fix this."

"I don't give a fuck," Bakuda snapped. "Get out of the way so I can get rid of that Nazi bitch. Your sister's one of her ghosts, you deal with her."

The muzzle of her pistol dug into Runechild's temple, and I winced. I could feel every bit of cold steel touching her.

The smallest spark would set them off.

"Valkyrie, fix her," Black Kaze said, half-turning to me. "Bring her- bring her back."

Her fingers were twitching, drumming rapidly on her sword hilt.

"Dammit Kaze!" Bakuda groaned. "She's dead. _Gone_."

Oni Lee added his opinion, "The girl is unimportant. Lung wanted Valkyrie taken alive. Neither of you will do anything."

I was stuck; too weak to flee with Krieg. But I couldn't just sit here and let them decide how they were going to kill him.

The smallest spark...

I reached out and touched Runechild's shard, took control of her.

I was going to hell for this.

"Setsu," Runechild whimpered. "Bakuda's hurting me. _Help me_!"

Black Kaze's went wide, an expression of utter fury slowly etching itself into every line in her face.

"Nori," she whispered, deadly quiet. "Close your eyes. I don't want you to see this."

"Kaze, don't!" Lee barked.

"Shut up, brat!" Bakuda hissed. She jammed her gun against Runechild's head. "Kaze, don't push me."

The standoff stretched out for one long, tense moment. Once again, I was the one to break it.

"Runechild, time to go!" I shouted.

The little shade's head snapped up to look at me. With a _pop_ , she was at my side, teleported to my stack of runecards. I grabbed her hand and seized Krieg with my other.

Bakuda took a step back, suddenly hostage-less. "Kaze, I'm serious, I'll-"

Black Kaze's face twisted into a feral grin.

" _Die_."

She drew, just as Bakuda aimed her pistol, but it was Oni Lee who moved first. He lunged and grabbed Bakuda. She disappeared, just in time for Black Kaze to _move_.

A step forward, and then-

She stopped behind Lee.

There was no in-between. She simply _was_ elsewhere.

I stared. For a split second, there was a _line_ , a row of ethereal Black Kazes stretched from where she'd begun to where she'd gone. They shifted and twisted, but none moved from their place in the line. Those closest to Lee struck out, cutting into him with their swords, digging their nails into his flesh like animals.

The Lee- a clone- disintegrated into ash. The real Lee had reappeared across the field with Bakuda. She seemed to be struggling with him as he tried to drag her away.

Black Kaze turned to look back at us. And then her eyes narrowed, focused on me.

"I won't let you take her from me."

Those few words scared me more than anything Bakuda had said all day. My little gamble had backfired – Kaze was going to save her sister from Bakuda, me, and anyone else who got in her way.

"Runechild, evac now!" I yelled.

Runechild hesitated, looking back and forth between me and her sister.

"Runechild!"

"Her name is Nori," Black Kaze said, still speaking in the same deadly quiet monotone. "And I will not let you have her."

She began walking toward us, slow at first, but picking up speed as she came. It was like having Lung come at me all over again. Only now I was too weak, too drained to run, cold dragging me down like chains.

"Nori, please," I whispered. "I don't know how much of you is left, but you know that that-"

Black Kaze closed within ten feet, wading through the grass with furious, unflinching strides. At my feet, Krieg groaned, coughed, and then groaned again. He was waking up.

 _Shit shit shit!_

"Noriko!" I yelled.

She looked at me and then her sister. And then she held out a hand to Black Kaze.

The woman's face lit up, her charge slowing down.

"Nori, oh Nori, I knew you were there."

Panic drove me, cutting away logical thoughts of escape or rescue. Instinct defaulted.

I took hold of Runechild's arm and bent to grab Krieg.

And then I took control.

The little shade exploded into action, moving under my will. She fanned her stack of cards and threw them straight up. The cards whirled like paper snow, scattering far and wide across the field as the wind caught them.

Her totality bloomed in the back of my mind; a little knot encompassing not just her senses, but also her power. I focused, and her power unfolded. It was like a map - dozens of little points arrayed around me, marking runecards that she'd drawn.

We _moved_.

Our first teleport dropped us barely a dozen feet away, just in time to see Black Kaze, her face contorted with rage, drawing her sword.

"Valkyrie!"

I threw us into a blind teleport, reaching for any point I could get. We came out a dozen feet to the right. Black Kaze stood where we had, the grass torn to pieces where we'd been. She turned and came at us in half a second. Not a teleport, but a screaming charge.

 _Pop_ \- we came out across the field, next to a rusting basketball hoop. Black Kaze was a tiny figure across the grass, spinning frantically, trying to locate us.

"Lee, Lee!"

A voice from behind made me turn. Bakuda crouched in the grass, just a few feet behind us. She had her back against a scrub tree, clutching her injured leg. She screamed for Lee again, and I reached out to Runechild, but not before Bakuda had raised her pistol.

The shot was deafening up close, loud enough to send nearby birds into flight. The bullet passed through me- ripped a hole in my scarf and exited out the back of my hood, narrowly missing Krieg.

I didn't think. A bullet to the face didn't allow for thought.

 _Pop_.

We dropped a few feet to the side. Bakuda re-aimed easily and fired again. Oni Lee appeared from nowhere to grab her, and she disappeared.

The sight made me want to laugh. They were doing the same thing I was- a teleporter moving a cripple. The clone Lee glanced at me, but I was already pulling on Runechild's power.

 _Pop_ \- we landed at Black Kaze's side. She turned, her eyes wide, but we were already moving again. _Pop_ \- into a sticker bush, the runecard caught on the thorns. Thirty feet away, Black Kaze moved fast enough to slice Bakuda's gun in half before Lee teleported her. _Pop_ \- dangerously close to the blaze now spreading across the field. I spared Krieg a worried glance, but he was about as burned as he could get.

 _Pop_ \- we came in two feet behind Bakuda and Lee. Lee was doing the shooting now, firing his SMG at Black Kaze. Bakuda was stumbling, hanging off Lee as he moved. I drove a kick into the back of her injured leg and it folded. She went down screaming with pain and rage. Lee turned awkwardly, trying to aim at us with Bakuda weighing him down, but we blinked away.

Runechild's power was humming, resonating with mine. I didn't have the knack of it- it was like moving without moving- the sort of internal lurch that I imagined apparition to be like. But we were moving blindly. I couldn't keep track of her cards in my head. Each one I moved to, I memorized, but there were so _many_.

I forced the teleports, blinking faster and faster through the cards, trying desperately to map them out, find one that would take us away. I couldn't run; couldn't drag Krieg like this. I needed Runechild's powers to get out.

Grass, grass, bush, Bakuda screaming, into the fire; the runecard burning up seconds after we blinked to it, grass, grass-

 _Pop_ \- Runechild's teleport threw us out near the edge of the field. We were on the opposite side of the fire now, and huge columns of smoke choked off the sky. The flames were spreading rapidly, fueled by the wind and grass. The house was sending up its own plume of smoke as well. Allfather's fight with Lung had started more fires inside.

I re-checked Allfather's shard. He was barely there, as low on energy as I was. Gaining Runechild had helped a little; I wasn't losing tangibility, but I wasn't regaining my strength either.

A noise like a train whistle cut through my examination. A blast that had to be one of Bakuda's grenades ripped through the field like a missile, tearing up a swathe of grass the width of a road and sending the debris showering across the field. I caught a glimpse of Black Kaze through the flames. She stalked onward, still in pursuit of Bakuda.

I withdrew my stack of runecards from a pocket. They were bent, burnt at the edges, but still intact. The edge of the field was only about thirty yards away.

I tossed the first card. The wind caught it and carried it on. We blinked to it, closer to the edge now. I repeated the action, enough in tune with Runechild that we moved seamlessly toward the edge.

With each teleport, a little glimmer of hope rose in me. Just a little more. Just a little more and we'd be out. Away from this nightmare.

The little bit of levity gave me the push I needed to teleport Krieg the last couple feet to the road. The neighboring houses were shabby, but I could see a few faces pressed against windows. People in Brockton Bay had enough good sense to know when not to get involved.

A black car came down a side street and turned onto the one I was on. I waved frantically, using both arms. No way in hell were they going to stop, not for a ghost and a Nazi. I'd steal it if I had to - anything to get away from the ABB.

The car came to a screeching halt. The fleet of cars that came around the corner behind it stopped as well. After a moment, doors started swinging open, and a horde of people climbed out of the cars. But my attention was riveted on the first car in the convoy.

The man who stepped out of the back was tall, sheathed in armor. He looked like Allfather except sharper, his armor elaborately decorated with spikes and blades. The Sauron to Allfather's Black Knight. Two women, both blonde bombshells in winged helmets, moved to his sides, looking for all the world like my namesake. There were other capes leaving cars as well; some I knew, Victor and Othala, Stormtiger and Cricket, and some I didn't. They were followed by a crowd of non-costumed thugs, all in red or black, and all holding weapons.

I let Krieg fall at my feet.

The Empire had arrived.

SPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAKSPEAK

This is the final chapter of the story. I apologize for ending on a cliffhanger, but it needed to end here.

While this story was still running, I spent nearly a month writing and rewriting the next chapter before I finally decided that it wasn't working out and just ended the whole thing. Basically everything after the rally was a slog for me to write, and while we got some great feels out of Noriko's story, it was still very half-baked. Taylor's character was very floaty and OOC from canon, and her plot was stapled together in the loosest ways.

I had rough ideas of how to finish out the arc, ending with an Allfather/Kaiser fight, and Allfather finding peace, but it would have taken months of work, and I just wasn't enjoying the story any longer. My initial lack of planning on the story, a consequence of being a first try at this fanfiction thing, doomed it from the beginning.

I built my house on sand, and it fell apart.

Thank you for reading, and I hope you will stay tuned for installments of my next story, Yearning.


End file.
